Flare

The green

                                                                 shatter, a new flame

                  growing from this crater


                                         *


                                                                                as skies

burned. You

                                              arrived, we were

                                          *


made, forged

                                        and braided. Always 
                                
                                bound by


                                          *


the flare: our hole

                                   torn in space, scorched

                                                                          petals tipped


                                          *


                                                                 silver. Kneeling

close, we cup

                                                   our hands, pour rain on


                                         *


smoke, scatter your crystal—

                                                    and the earth

                                                                                       lights us.

Read more from Issue 22.2.