Burn-out
I am flowers dried in tangled hair
and tarnished stars in smudged eyes.
feel that gravity;
feel that pyre burning higher.
for years, we passed around the white and green
while the bottled brown took a turn.
the crowds looked delightfully soft like a
pillow of arms and encore lighters
and I spun dancing into my conflagration.
“Here, scattered to the wind, are the last remains of ____
May there be rest in peace.
May God save the soul from the flames.”
of my name, a gentle breeze.
of my black and white friends, only ash.
sleep on the lawn and rest in these arms.
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