And then: your first light. Eerie star between metallic, blackened trees. Your lantern-hum alive like any limb. Any reaching arm any two hands made cup for stark, elusive beam. Almost yellow, yet another world’s powdered green. The snag of something bright but soft within the branches.
Steady moon-waver, otherworldly ash: firefly. Your glow, a concentrated fog mixed to paint. Where does the star wander tiny tinkerer in search of a mate? Luminous engineer, your body a brilliance unlike anything human. Better than our best bulbs, and we’ve calculated for centuries.
How different, our energy. How friendly, the warm-windowed house. Our slow fatality, a murmured whirl of motors. The way we extinguish you and barely notice.
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Measured insect, with a voice of light between branches— You are my Lucifer and Venus. My god of earth, the small fire kindling within. I’ll follow your low wink into the woods
past trees, past the hour my house darkens.
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