“Absent the upward flow of hot air, fires in microgravity are dome-shaped or spherical—and sluggish, thanks to meager oxygen flow [, yet] flame in microgravity can be more tenacious, capable of surviving on less oxygen and burning for longer periods of time.” –Ker Than “In Space, Flames Behave in Ways Nobody Thought Possible,” Smithsonian Magazine, 2012.

My fingers and words twirl like rising smoke,
spinning, twisting, conjuring
a burned dinner, an unresponsive spouse; my child’s injury
stinging more sharply in my tending—all fragmenting,
after my having burned through classes and gazing
into a rejected article on findings that change
nothing.

My soul is wickless wax; my prayers, fleeting—
a slight stream of soot.

Set my wick, Lord. Scent my wax
with ashes stinking of my arrogance,
so I’ll catch with holy flame.

Release me from the gravity
of worry that stretched my faint light
into a grief-shaped tear drop.

Settle me, Creator, and I become a steady
sapphire, a burning sphere cradled above my hollow
core, cupped under your hands, awaiting Breath.

And though my light is absent
to others, candle the cool of my heart
for finite flickers of fragile worship.