Pale hands beckon like open flame
foxfire on your lips
leads me deeper into your swamp
like folk tales of buried treasure
that I want to make true.

Your eyes cloud over
St. Elmo’s fire on your lips
and its thunder rumbles in my chest.
I count the seconds in between.
Are you moving towards me
or farther away?

Galaxyfire made of one hundred
million embers firefly eyes
abyss in your lips
my god—it’s full of

deep sea creatures
green glowing lures
and I’m sinking—

© 2020 by Josh Pearce

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