The neon forests rise up around me,
crystal walls fold inward toward us
mazing through deserted cities of the plain…
Wandering round this dazed light
I wonder what they were thinking;
the soft glow of night brings back
old memories of space that haunt me.
These twisted surfaces of metal and flesh,
the frozen ocean of an old beachhead;
the quiet sleep of clouds across the glass,
a lone snake sidewinding against thick wind.
The patterns seem to follow you
as you follow them, the shadows play
and form a circle; a spark of sun
springs from its center: falling upward.
I thought I saw her running –
a little girl in red; her hair flowing
like a glacial river’s pure deep blue:
she was a shade of hidden stone.
We came to the sunken balustrade,
polished by time and granite;
descending the stairs into darkness
I felt the cool clean breath of death.
– Steven Craig Hickman ©2014 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited.