Death Throes

by Elliot J. West

The sun, in all her glory, is only just a star.
Finite, flaming, she whittles herself down
to keep the world warm.
        I wonder if there is more to life than this

She’ll burn into oblivion, bleed into
some nebulous notion, dwarfed by expectations
of a supernova that will never come.
        working and wasting into nothing.

I am not the sun, with all her glory
and infinite expectations, whittled, wasting.
I am the nebula, those space dust death throes.
        Clawing up from these remnants,

I leave who I once was, display of lights and
color, convulsing, one violent shudder
In search of something altogether new.
        from the ashes I am born.

Elliot J. West (he/they) is an author and tabletop role play game designer from the southern USA. His works focus on LGBTQ+ voices and themes of nature, belonging, and identity. When Elliot isn’t writing, they enjoy drinking tea, playing games, and sending their friends photos of animals in hats. More of his work can be found at elliotjwest.com.

• @elliotjwest