Sign up to our newsletter
That fire, they said, was red as red as redas red as a fox, your lips, a cherry;that fire, they said spread and spread and spread,faster than a cheetah or a nasty rumour;
I feel it, first as a stir,turning deep in the murky water.Surfaces up for air, a twitchon the lake in my head.A flip, and it disappears.
We watch them, hypnotized.Pale and mysterious,They rise and fall. Joe says“They look like ghosts.”
We turn our faces up and jiggle thirty toes,Morse-coding longing with our restless beat.When will it come?Shepherds on the first Nativity, we scan the skiesand huddle,