Making
fireflies
with a devil in disguise
and
with wings like mine
I’ll be lucky to fly
half as high
once the evening tires
Making
fireflies
with demons in denial
and
with wings like mine
I’ll be fortunate
to
quiver calm
beneath their pyre
Above—above
and beyond
close
to the sun
too close for one
determined
to shine
from the wealth it sends
gleaming, glowing
longing
to be-friend, a firefly,
alive
in every beam
it’s light shall find
the location of enslaved fire
