The theory is orange, like the heads of my matches,
which I light to get the comfort I need most.
The first fire I set makes all my baggy sweaters and
elastic waist pants blaze. I may not be dressed for
the weather, but if I strike enough orange, I am worthy,
I am praised, I am not chastised for wasting my flames
like those lazy liars in the green or the blue. When
my shoulder hurts, I strike a match and a trainer appears
to tell me orange will loosen it. When pain flames
my brittle wrists, the next match prophesies that burpees
are the key to ease. If I protest, go home without
the requisite of orange, I will be scorned. And so I burn
in just the way I’m told, squat my knees to conflagration,
all the way to orange, to red, like the pills I pop to stay
the pain. My matches dwindle as my body aches.
While I dim to ember, find me. Watch me burn.

Donna Vorreyer is the author of Every Love Story is an Apocalypse Story (2016) and A House of Many Windows (2013), both from Sundress Publications. Her poems, reviews, and essays have appeared in Rhino, Tinderbox Poetry, Poet Lore, Sugar House Review, Waxwing, Whale Road Review, and many other journals. Her third full-length collection is forthcoming in 2020 from Sundress.