I was born inside a burning house
I have known flame,
as breath
as air,
the itch of curling inward–
Fire is hunger
it devours
births the ache of starvation,
leaves the hollow of haunting in the stillness of its wake
As a child, I fell in love with ghosts
maybe haunting is my nature
maybe the smell of rot is sweet,
intoxicating
maybe I was addicted
As a child, I dreamt of Orpheus,
who called Eurydice from the underworld
to the light
I never understood why Persephone
craved the surface, or the spring
I ate pomegranate seeds by the fistful,
bared bloody teeth against the changing air
you could call me scar tissue, or bite
or bravery,
but I have never been afraid of burning .
The voice of Orpheus
rends earth to sky,
pulls tide to meet the moon,
Half siren half song
the ocean
Aches,
it Craves
it is anything but stillness-
it is life
maybe even Spring
clenched fists uncurl,
tired feet go willingly
skin blooms smooth as blister yields to newness
grass grows from scarred mountainside—
tiptoes toward swirling sky
trees knit themselves whole around lightning strikes,
and grow.
a burning girl
pulls herself clean from the waves,
and like Eurydice,
she will follow
don’t look back
don’t look back
don’t look back
Aiden “A.J.” Brown is an LA-based writer and multimedia artist. Originally from Chicago, they received their Master’s degree in the Humanities with a concentration in English Literature in 2020. Their work has been featured in BoneMilk and The Fall of a Sparrow.