new year poem n. 8

 
when you thread a needle
with spidersilk to sew shut
a spiderbite, it’s surprising
how clean the wound will heal:
 
after her suicide, i saw
doom in everything i saw
my own death and i thought:
if i don’t fight, i’m done
 
you can not burn your way out
of a fire, although i suppose
if you burn big enough you swallow
& become fire instead.
 
but i don’t
think ash
is the destination
you dream

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/406g2n/way_down_here_rough/cys8afh https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/407u2n/its_been_a_while/cys84bn