Burnpoetry: A Writer's Attempt to Write

Edison’s filaments,
In no-man’s firmament,
Skate star-ward on thick-cut night.
Our tongues Shakespearean,
Hearts drumming a tribal beat,
Swarthy night
Swaddles us deep.
Her eyes hold fire.
Her lips hold love.

The embers hang on buzzing wings.
On wisping currents,
And wayfarer’s breeze.
The trees echo.
Green
White noise;
A current of leaf and branch
Slowly easing downstream.

Thrumming,
Muted
Flashbulbs
Not popping, but warming slow
Like oven’s pre-heating.
Starry preamble ambling skyward.
Levitational lethargy.
Our hands twine together
Fingers slowly looping-the-loop;
Human cursive.

Low-hanging constellations,
Ebbing and flowing
Under the moon’s dilated eye.
Darkness tucks us in,
Side by side,
All the way to our chins.

FIN