For Girls Filled With Fire
arrow of flaming carnations,
skin glossed by light in coral hues of coppery sun and rosy dusk.
ripe peaches and sea salt kisses,
turmeric sprinkles on buttered ridges.
bones of asteroids and calcium phosphate, stardust on the apples of her cheeks and eyes of infinitesimal galaxies blooming and booming out like supernovas,
skin the color of the milky way woven together by strands of onyx diamonds,
hair in all the shades of sun — burnt umber bleeding out to copper and cornflower gold,
wings sprouting from shoulder blades.
Icarus who flew too close to the sun on wings of feather and wax,
in clandestine yet incandescent moments of warm hands woven through dark curls and blazing hot fingertips and soft, malleable flesh brushing up against each other.
the sky enraptured by the serene brutality of the storm of the sea until the shores and the sun wept from watching with tears of pure light and
it all turned to gold.
as arbitrary blackness gallops in and a field of stars cling to the midnight ceiling
under the phosphorescent crescent curve of the moon,
dangling like a pendant from a necklace clasped proudly around the balletic neck of night,
she is you,
the girl who dares to play in the dark and burn the night alive.
and if you’ve already captured this universe,
substance and fire living, thriving, and igniting
inside of you as you, then maybe the world is already yours
so claim it.