Inside, a star burns.
Indigestion sears my throat,
makes memories twinkle
as hot sparklers poking
their fire through my ears, nose.
My eyes aflame,
it grows, expands, begins.
Or does it end,
light years ago, inside me?
A roasting seed,
planted when I first took breath,
never to be born under the sun.
I am its black hole.
Creative Commons: Judy Schmidt
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