Independence Day, 2016
By
Radiance Angelina Petro
Fireflies riot in the trees,
I can’t distinguish them
From the moon-lit sequins
On my skirt as I stride
Through the damp grass
Into the night-draped yard.
Fireworks pop—dull, crisp—
Somewhere people on blankets
Look up, wondering how good
The finale will be (it is always so
Sudden—leaving the scent of sulphur
And wisps of smoke to dissolve
Very anti-climatically
Into the sky).
Fire consumes light for a living.
I long to turn and run
Through the black hole of my life,
And plunge head-first
Into the churning mouth
Of the sun.
Please help support my transition. Thank you.