Cold Planet

That Messenger god, that playful god
I was Mercury whose ankles ferried
the passionate fire of fleshly suns
volcanoed up so long ago in butterflies
of star-candied bliss.

That trivial god I, the firefly,
winged close in wild eccentric orbits
until she pulled me close into her fire.
She unfurled around me through the long,
slow arc of hungry years,
igniting me with bittersweet berries
until I strangled on them and died.

So I blew her fires out
and she folded space to trap me
through long, slow aching revolutions
dusted by angry flares of hungry ashes
butterflying up like moths of coal.



Copyright ©1997, 2008, and 2011 Daniel J. Bishop