“firestarter” by Marisca Pichette

Their phoenix face
turned my eyes to ash.

I could cry no more.

They dressed me in asbestos
and tied me to the divot
between their burning wings.

All through our flight I wished
my lips inflammable.

I wished to kiss them for knowing
my eyes held so much more pain
than sight.

Leaking embers, I held on
till they landed us in the center
of our new and last home.

They stripped me of my protection
and naked, asked me

how long I’d never known

that this fire wouldn’t burn
my heart.

I’d always been told that phoenixes
have no mates.

Phoenixes, I knew,
are only remarkable
for how they die.

Folding me in their painless wings
they whispered in my wanting ear:

“every fire needs
a spark.”

Marisca Pichette chases darkness. More of her work appears in Strange Horizons, Clarkesworld, and Asimov’s, among others. Her Bram Stoker and Elgin Award-nominated poetry collection, Rivers in Your Skin, Sirens in Your Hair, is out now. Find her on Twitter as @MariscaPichette, Bluesky as @marisca.bsky.social, and Instagram as @marisca_write.