Pieces of bone

that once belonged to someone,

now drifting, endlessly swallowed

by the infinite throat of the earth.

_I prayed to God._

_I did._

_Swear._

But the devil answered first.

He reached out—

I still have the message he left.

A question,

one I was already trying to answer:

_Who am I when no one is watching?_

Blue fires.

Moldy cheese.

A bullet lodged in some Jane Doe’s skull.

_(We will never know how it got there.)_

I breathe quieter at night,

afraid the stars will startle—

afraid they’ll notice me

and disappear.

The stars—

they are everything.

They are who I am.

If I am anything.