by L.G. Corey
Light the fire with your finger.
Light the fire with your tongue.
Spread their ashes on the altar.
- There is magic in their planting,
omens in their dust,
and a whiff of sulphur
on their breath.
As I’ve said so many times before,
Time, at the speed of light, stands still.
-
Do you remember?
Anything at all?
-
Have you forgotten
the quick lick of words on your lips
and the stiff tongue
that reamed the omens from your navel,
- disturbed your breath
and set the sulphur burning
on your altar
at the speed of light?
Nothing remains
of what was once forgotten
in the dust of hares and tortoises.
- The race is over, but never won;
the race is neither ended nor begun.
[Featured]Digital Art Image Credit: Botanical Hairstyle by Barbara Ruth. ©Copyright 2015, Barbara Ruth.
Snapping Twig – Summer – 2015
Vol: May 2015 thru Jul 2015