north breeze on wet skin shivers
white horses under a midnight moon
hands touching hands sparking fire
north breeze on wet skin shivers
white horses under a midnight moon
hands touching hands sparking fire
I blinked and the firework was a flower on the back of my eye, evening star soaring as the moon sank beyond the town wall. Where the sea had been this morning was deep nothingness, holding glassy afloat the lights of the outgoing boats. A moment, and the moon.
bone clouds fast forward
moonshine on easy horses
we are not enough
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The sky was night-black but the people remembered.
The sky is night-black but the warm dawn is arriving;
Keep the door open and the fire well-stoked.
Ali stretched his hand towards the night sky and pulled down a crescent of milk-white seaglass, polished smooth by decades of waves. ‘Here is all the moon I can reach,’ he said. His lover smiled in silence, her eyes full of starlight. She touched the glass to her lips.
The beach stones are thousand-year smooth, grey light grey when the clouds clear the moon, black as the night when the misting returns. The sky-black sea crashes foam white at its border. If there are voices, they are distant, both in place and time.
dark night, dark dreams swirling
eyes flicker, will they open?
blue bruised sky slowly lightens
Milk-white light spills through the crescent slit in sky
Trees cast broken spider web shadows
I look at my phone as you tell me with you the sun is shining
The earth has spun you away
Night draws in its ice-chill velvet curtains
Frayed clouds worn patchwork beyond the trees
If you ever think of me, please say my name
Through the forest in the night blackness they crept in single file. “Turn that torch off!” he shouted, then saw the light was shining from the other man’s eyes.