Angithee 2 Now

I feed it one regret at a time. They catch slowly, like wet wood. But they catch.

Angithee 2 does not roar. It hums the way a widow hums in the kitchen— not a song, just a frequency to keep the silence from freezing. angithee 2

I sit closer now. I know that heat is not loyalty. It will leave by 4 a.m. But before leaving, it will show me how a dying log can still sketch a peepal leaf on the wall. I feed it one regret at a time

The match strikes. One hesitant blue tongue. Then the slow orange eating its way inward, like a secret told too late. like a secret told too late.