On that night of side stream smoke,
I sat amongst men whose
shoulders’ slope showed
smiles that come hard fade harder,
like forcing beauty into stones.
Our friendship had lit oils at the
bottom of a tub of viles
we had drank in entirety earlier today.
I saw, in distance, ten thousand fireflies released,
behind which, a cloud of poison,
illuminated in the insect’s splendor,
touched a glimmer of fear
in every smoking soldier’s eye.
I wish those smoldering ghosts
hadn’t been hung so high.
