Gathering, by AlicePopkorn

(for Phoebe Prince)

Headlines screamed your name to me. When I read the
story, I thought that you had lost your wings. You can’t fly
hanging by your neck, enclosed inside
a closet womb. I want to give you
my wings, rip all the fire from off my back and
ignite yours. Wipe the dawn with your shadow, paint the morning
with your fire. But all that I can pull from my own wings
is black feathers. I can only ignite them and
hope that the wind catches the smoke and
carries it away. Spell your name with smoke,
grieve your senseless exit with flames.
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