A Night of Sulphur

A night of sulphur
    in the garden
       with winding trees
          exquisite breeze

but sulphur ling’ring
    in the air

and in the blue heather
  I heard
      a girl’s voice
          clear as the moon

follow me down
  she sang, she cried
      follow me down
                to the riverside

so I left my bench
   and jumped the trail
          hov’ring on
              that perfect

made its way
   to southern shores
      the voice called on
          away, anon

follow me down
  it sang, it cried
     follow me down
               down to the riverside

and at that river
     silent shore
all voices converge
     in quiet waves
             had it been I
                 who’d dreamt
             that voice,
                       the last
                           of fading



Appeared in FIRE: No. 18 (Oxford, UK)

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