Self-Portrait as a Firework

Lit, I spread my arms and swallow the sky
and when they come to find me composedly

sleeping, they find only dusty remains
of kaleidoscopic stars, gossamer greens

red and blue; Indeed I shone too brightly.
Sizzled and fallen, the crowd marched home.

Exit, alternatively, a toy of light
reeled upstream, snagging on nothing.

Glimpsed once and imagined for a lifetime.

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