WHAT WEEKLY

Poetry: 3. Une Graine (Excerpted from Lux Light Lumiere) by Jesse Mitchell

30 May 2013

★ Timmy Reed

3. Une Graine
Ambulances and cars slam screaming, moon soaked, through the hard streets baked clean by the sun all day.  This is me all over the end of the world, surrounded by the spectacular devils and the Moorish angels that inhabit the cold dunes around the Djinn infested oases, where the moonlight streams down smoky through the fronds like shards of broken water.  I watch my breath.  I watch your breath.
And in a second of the universe’s time, I existed.  And you  did too.  And I loved you.  And did me as well.  And up from a seed a tree sprouted and grew and under its canopy we rested as a storm swelled up, and passed, rain like acid on my lips, so warm it burned.  And then the second was over and you disappeared and I was gone.


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