Solstice

Write down a list of all the things you want to let go of

Sign your name and fold it in half

Then go to the kitchen and turn on the burner

Start at the edges and swallow it whole

Hook, line

I don't think the words are all that important

It just seems right to keep them all closely contained

When the crease on the page is as real as a national border

Imagine the world you want but don't file it away

Bind it as a sign like the flickering light of the lonely storefront

Before your eyes can adjust to the dark on the longest night