Chamber

Some heroes smoulder
Not Chamber
His heart's a ruddy bonfire that climbed upon him
and ate up his mouth.
He stands on the dam
flash fusion of man and Venusian sulphur storm
His lovesickness is volcanic
His cry blows away houses
And maybe,
in the gothic night,
dreaming fitfully of hospitalised girlfriends,
he spits like spark welding,
a human Catherine Wheel.