There’s A Burning

I feel a rise in my chest that speeds up

and                                        slows                                     down

like a bird trapped inside my rib cage,

wings shrinking, but not their power.

I’m afraid I’m going to throw up;

eyes blur, and for a moment I think I’m fainting,

but it’s only the hot sun

and I didn’t know I had been staring,

until my head feels like a berry on a tree,

maturing—growing heavy, weary—dying.

I push on my temples to stop the noise

of disappointment—static reception of a shitty

radio station with signals neither              here

nor                         there—

I have no boundaries so I hear the noise,

I hear the clatter,

I hear you catching your sobs                     in                           your                       throat

and it’s in perfect rhythm with the bird inside by chest.

I never promised eternal happiness or peace,

as the sun never promised the simple comfort of warmth;

sometimes we burn until there’s nothing left,

only hearsay of what happened that one time long ago.

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