"The only thing I want,"
you said.
"is a piece of the sun
for my floor lamp. I'll
save it for a rainy day,
when the sky is gloom
and depression creeps under
my comforter.
Flip a switch: burn them out."
So I climbed the mountain
that scrapes the sky. Frog-hopped
out of Earth's hedge hurdled
over asteroids pinballed
between stars trampolined
off the Moon into the flaming
foam pit of our Sun. Fought
my way out of stellar gravity
a shard between my teeth, gift-wrapped
it in shiny mylar.
But that little speck of sun
devoured with a thousand licking tongues
swallowed me whole
spat me out as human torch.
I melted me-shaped holes
through all five layers of atmosphere,
and your front lawn.
Finally I extinguished;
one smoking hand still holding
the 14k pure molten nugget.
Allison DeDecker is currently based in Yuma, AZ, USA. She draws inspiration from day-to-day life, current events, and the natural world. Her work has been published in Colorado Crossing Literary Journal, Perfumed Pages and Goats Milk Magazine, with more forthcoming in Pile Press. Connect with her on Twitter @AllisonDeDecker.