By Amanda Thomas
I don’t want our world.
Enfold me in the cardinal dawn
and let me be reborn.
Lift me
to the realm where people are angels
not monsters.
I give my love freely.
And does that make me
weak, not strong
and does that make me
empty, not full.
[Of course.]
Gift me an escape but
[I’m stupid like that.]
I will return.
I question the orbital promise.
Karma. Fate. Saturn’s flawless rings.
Everything turning back around.
