Member-only story
24 Million Hours
~ i search for moth ashes ~
Years ago,
I saw forsythia bloom
out of season.
Monsoon clouds
could’ve been
a slab of labradorite.
Labradorite?
A nebula pulsating.
lightning runs and
glows, runs and glows
the rest is an indigo
greygreen world.
Conundrums
chase each other
I see communion.
clouds do that too…
Silly me!
Science knows all, fool.
Out of season
Forsythian gold
erupted against
a backdrop of monsoon
bluegrey.
And I
in a chartreuse
and cobalt
Maleficent-collared dress
resplendent as sunbeams
on viridescent leaves.
Some colors
can’t be left behind
in time
smolder they do
hammered to my breast,
always mine,
those moments
but it’s the moon I want.
Imagine
if you can
a symmetry of gold
purpled grey, acid of
chartreuse and blue rain —
a celebration of
heaven shattering.
I became perfect.
Humid signals
made flowers invert
as I watched in thrall.
Flowers mothers,
pollen children.
Thousands of potential lives safe.
Thunder boomed
down came wet slices of steel.
Steadfast umbrellas,
