Solo Sequence
by Emily Wight
Our legs are damp kindling, sparkless on our raincoat groundcover.
Above, a celestial firestorm hurls embers at the moon.
You scoff as I puzzle over UFOs and barges.
Across the inlet, the bridge is suspended by green-bottomed faeries
Who glow to guide disembodied tail lights to the north shore.
On the other side, the dead are ground into piles of yellow powder.
You place it on my tongue like a snowflake and watch my eyes;
You tell me you can witness miracles in the retinas.
I wade through technicolour darkness in search of a working flashlight.
Ceiling galaxies of phosphorescent constellations like compasses,
Maps and landmarks that lead Ritalin toddlers to the Land of Nod.
There is comfort in the containment of the universe.
When you kiss my eyes separately I imagine that you are eating my soul
I wait for you to spit it back but you know I do not need it any longer.
I lack the ocular radiance of people who look on the bright side.
Emily is a creative writing student at the University of British Columbia. She presently lives in Vancouver, BC, Canada. This poem has previously been published in Cool Word.
