In the house you burned down, I rose from the ashes laughing like a ghost that would haunt your dreams. I thought, I am coming for you. I thought, I know enough about death. My anger was a baby bird I cradled in my arms. It grew to be so large, its beak breaking on your name — my mouth the same. It took years to tempt my body from smolder to spark, snapping to life, engulfing everything in flames. There are no words for how my hands blistered, and scabbed, and scarred… and how I would not change it. At night, I circle the sky above where you sleep. In your dreams I am still a ghost.