Lantern

I don't know if they ever happened,
the parts of me that I have squeezed down my throat and
nestled deep in my rib cage, secret
underneath my heart.

But I imagine a burning there,
where my insides must look like a lantern-something and
I imagine all glass
and at the right angle
all little light blossoms, all flapping wings.

They were much bigger then, the places today
that I am too scared to walk through,
which is why I swallowed
juice and gingerbread, sand and skin, dirt and flower
and underneath my heart, in my rib cage
is a place that still tastes wind.

Later, some breath will blow out in me
but now, before the no-air, is the brightest moment
the hottest –

The bluest of flame.