It is early night.
One side of the sky
is bleached but
halted,
waiting
for the rose-gold light
to reach it,
to slowly catch
the edges of
the kindling,
the fibers curdled
to a red so dark
they are purple;
a coagulated flame
that simmers low,
held steady
on the shoulders
of the sun.
Published on May 18, 2025 16:37