luminous red novae

Dearth and burning famine milled these
teeth I grind, the dough I work. As sure as
certainty brings ruin

(and γνῶθι σεαυτόν, I know myself as well as you). 

Hand-carved and scolded, limitless in orbit
 but frozen here in place, an edged weapon
ill-tempered, waiting for my life to begin. 
 
Come taste what lies beneath my skin,
slick sharp. Watch unwarranted embers
scorch my tongue--pale coral devoré,

the acidic yearning to run, the way my
wingspan burns in reds and golds, how
mica shreds me, grass-edge wounds me,
heartbreak in foaming

cherry syrup, kakigori gore spilling from the
side of my scowling mouth into silver rings.
Ice slips into my throat, damp and paper
petals falling from my hands, dull against
the wind. 

I snarl and show my teeth, I tear at the seams 

where my face is settling into lines I cannot
understand. I am sinking, caught in soot,
soft as feathers that stain me ever deeper

dusk, dust. 

Always the shade against dark

skies you cannot touch, still trying to solve
this groundless, grievous fault, I wonder, 

is it such strain for you? the reach? to reach

the light of new stars, the reflection of the
slivered moon as hot and copper as blood,
as salt as ocean and tears. As terrible as
time, as silent. As luminous as the oil-slick
that gilds each dying bird, as sultry-sweet as
the memory of your hand. 
--