the devouring forms of childhood
lay within a transmuted cloud formation
backstabbed by light beaming brushstrokes
all trickling down into a pool of commonalities
awaiting a future
where feverish feelings bubble up into
times on the precipice of being cherished
when the last bits of my body were smoldering,
my mother’s corpse had already benefited the livelihood of earthworms and milkweeds
for over twenty years.
“I” caught a westward breeze and floated with random precision
towards an old solar power plant.
if my smell had been more pleasing,
some may have said that I was a symbol of communication
with a higher power.
the remaining essence of my legacy could have been used in ritual
to help reassure an ancient people that death really wasn’t all that bad
or that they were more important than they seemed.
sometimes it’s easier to find solace in the knowledge
that one day you’ll be able to fly.