Sulfur and Held Breath

Someone lit a long match at the table

and I heard it before I saw the flame—

that scratch, that catch, the sulfur blooming—

and something I don't have a proper name

for happened in my chest. My hands went flat.

The whole room kept on going, forks and wine.

No one noticed I had left the table

while still sitting there, still holding mine.

The flame bent once before it steadied.

I watched it for too long.

The candle was a candle. Just a candle.

The sound was years ago, and I was wrong

to bring it here.