That Stupid Fish

I am water, eight placements deep:
is this why flames cannot find me?
Embers only steam
and unspark the moment

I touch them.
An instant of want
needs for more,
craving, longing, yearning—

a pulse of passion,
kiss of fire,
all to falter,
sate no desire

like ashes
on the tongue,
commit me
to the ocean,

these mortal remains
of uncrossed star charts,
only again to light
by themselves, ignite

against the abyss,
kindled by the cinders
of two fish
four times paired.