And then the sky lit the morning.
And then I went in to set my own house on fire.
And then I lay down next to you:
a body filling with feathers or with snow
asking: and who are you that my love can light
like this, like kerosene.
— Olena Kalytiak Davis, from “Like Kerosine,” Her Soul. (University of Wisconsin Press; n Second edition edition October 15, 1997)