bone fire

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


Made to                 flicker              fast
I can              flash              forest

                                                into        forgotten

               all glitter    :   precious wasteland    


   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              

these binoculars I           have borrowed
              with   no intention
                                                           of returning

On stage, I see myself                   melt                                                                     

Growing up                        all the children
                          jackets said               Danger     ,

but it has been too long                   
                           since I was a child
who heeded warning

                                                        The trouble is 
                                                                   sometimes I wish 

             I could promise   

                                                        more water

I wish I could 
promise you less            




We all burn through    —


Reece Gritzmacher lives in a mountain town surrounded by ponderosa pines. Their poetry and prose has been published or is forthcoming on, Sundog Lit, Another Chicago Magazine,, 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.

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