digital art: ralph murreFoxfire
by Jackie Langetieg
(fox-fire n. A phosphorescent glow on rotting wood)
When all sound has sifted away,
streaming lamplight and car beams
gone like the moon turning her back,
darkness caresses with dense electricity
the bone and breath of the sleepless.
These are not night terrors
or machinations of the worrier
or daydreams of the romantic
but the held breath of the dying
evading the hound whose eyes search the forest,
tongue lolling, saliva dripping with anticipation.
I try and hide my luminescence
wrapped in this unraveling garment,
hoping to arrive at yet another morning
where we all look alike.
~ previously published in Confetti in a Silent City
When all sound has sifted away,
streaming lamplight and car beams
gone like the moon turning her back,
darkness caresses with dense electricity
the bone and breath of the sleepless.
These are not night terrors
or machinations of the worrier
or daydreams of the romantic
but the held breath of the dying
evading the hound whose eyes search the forest,
tongue lolling, saliva dripping with anticipation.
I try and hide my luminescence
wrapped in this unraveling garment,
hoping to arrive at yet another morning
where we all look alike.
~ previously published in Confetti in a Silent City
