Nocturne

Dictators vie for mastery
of hours and appetite.

Sitting still in cluttered rooms,
furniture can't rearrange
to catch earth's shifting polarity.
Life won't even align
along magnetic fields
or tidal sway of quixotic moon.

Northern lights
have gone adrift over Siberia,
effervescent mermaids
enter an archipelago dweller's
midday nightmare.

While home slate shingle
roofs collapse on a bedside table
drown sagging alarm clock
and deflated condoms.

A spent night of remembrance
traced frontal countenance targets
taking political prisoners.

~~~~~~~~~~

First draft, constructive criticism welcome.

Festival of Lights

Watching the bonfire


From the street corner came a pounding rhythm. We rounded the bend, emerged in the midst of drummers. Silver costumes shimmered under streetlights, but more shiny things and distant clamour drew us along the street toward Kensington Market. Celebrants carried rice paper lanterns of every shape, size and colour. Fire breathers, candles in cups, flame and light filled the night. Parents carried spellbound children through the mob, pointing here and there. Smells of hot cider and spicy food spilled out of shops. Two men hoisted a long Viking ship decorated with streaming tissue paper, sailing overhead. Giant puppets two storeys tall encircled a street performer. He called everyone to summon Green Man’s return on this longest night of the year. The parade swept this performance away and moved onto others. Four people with suns for faces stood on a balcony, pouring imaginary tea into giant blue cups. We bought hot chocolate and followed the press toward the park, where everything converged and set flame to something like a giant flower in the centre. It erupted with a scent of fuel, sending ash up to meet a soft downward drift of snowflakes. Light embraced darkness confidently, engaging in a rapturous interplay.