I am too fire — I know my arms and legs
wrists less than my own
pinky and thumb in circumference
can be snapped \ into / autumn
kindling
Made to flicker fast
I can flash forest
into forgotten
all glitter : precious wasteland
upon
stones I blacken ;
these exhales are not so CO2
they push oxygen from my crackling
You’ve got a temper I tell myself from peanut gallery
as I squint into opera
glasses
these binoculars I have borrowed
with no intention
of returning
On stage, I see myself melt
synthetic
Growing up all the children
’s
jackets said Danger ,
Flammable
but it has been too long
since I was a child
who heeded warning
The trouble is
this
sometimes I wish
I could promise
you
more water
I wish I could
promise you less
ash
fewer
splinters
We all burn through —
Sometime.
Reece Gritzmacher lives in a mountain town surrounded by ponderosa pines. Their poetry and prose has been published or is forthcoming on Poets.org, Sundog Lit, Another Chicago Magazine, genderqueer.me, tiny wren lit, and Bloodletter (some publications under a former first name). They hold an MFA in Creative Writing from Northern Arizona University and grew up in Portland, Oregon.