Firefy

the edges ripple & singe

at their peaked hemisphere,

the small smudged fire feathers

of butterflies, recoiling like wax,

evaporated instantly into

nothingness but a drip,

the husk

of a bracketed being, always

holding back: melted slowly

over a long night burning.

There is so much to reach for,

small & large alike, bright

& dark, both borealis bodies

& aurora waters swirling,

(in the bathtub) the currents

of weather riveting the cusp

of consciousness, the depth of wishing.

Whatever feels true: the bells

of wheeled vortexes ringing,

illuminating the small spaces

lying dark, the measure

between eyelashes, nose to nose,

the florescent glow in summer

upon cheekbones, a percussion

of words left unsaid (I always say

too much) strung out on

electric distances like

the sugar on the rim.

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

Yes, you do take me with you.... Sometimes, you hear a song, but the words are lost in the music...it doesn't matter, the tone tells the story, and all the while the melody carries you where it will...