I am not your ghost.
Swallow my liver
like I’m a fire demon
and hold it hostage
in your mutable citadel.
Your hearth is my life
is my home is my prison.
Don’t expect my bile
to turn into diamonds.
You should have taken
my heart when offered.
You could have crushed
carbon and soil,
resilient and fresh.
I might be a meteoroid
but I am clever enough
to know when I’m being caught
or when I’m being torn asunder.
Go back and tell me
not to find you.