Horoscope

This instant between indoors vs. outdoors
She sees Cassiopeia laugh from her throne
That echoes like a honey baited bear trap
Thinking that if Orion hunts her down under
The thickness of outside’s nightened door
That it would be ok
That an end is good
That her hair can trail behind her
To tangle in her arms
Red like blood
The Hunter takes her ankle and tears her away

Where night once was a blanket of wantedness
Now becomes the blindfold
Where once she stood high into the trees
Now she whispers into the ears of beetles
Who click click their tongues at her
And roll the dung away

Some gifts are not meant to be kept

She is pulled and pulled like dirty taffy
Collecting decay into her pores and blood
Her words fall like used coffee grounds
A vomited trail of aged caffeine and curdled lies
As if this would have been what built a home with curtains
But decay begets decay and she is only capable of wearing down
What words have built

She belongs here, she thinks
As Orion pulls her higher
Places her next to the lion
Pinned up like a specimen.
If she is in the stars, where no air lives,
Then she can stay as she is
And burn.