For my next life, I'd be anything but human

For my next life, I'd be anything but human.

A cat, a fly or poison ivy.

A bee in yellow with black stripes 

and write a poem addressed to a tulip.

Perhaps a hermit crab, embracing forsaken houses to call home.

I'd rather be an obsolete tree at the edge of a field —

bald and veiny; churned up soil beneath my roots.

My neck would grow thinner in a wake of vultures, singing swansong on “murder”.

Ancient sea terror, living up to my apex fame

or the rose that just grew from concrete.

For my next life, I'd be everything that doesn't spell human.

Keep your fire. Keep your tongue. Keep your spite. Keep your lair.

Prey or predator, but you.

In this life — 

I am sunlight and sin; I am death and ruin.

I am hideous than the beast under my skin.

For next time's sake, I'll be anything 

smaller… dumber… insignificant… but….