Haunted night
is filled with fairy ghosts
of candles burnt
forty-three years
endless summer days
and countless aching seconds before they sang!
The ash of memory
collects / connects / coalesces
between a dreamed of future
and the year before my own birth.
Music plays,
dancers sway,
Listen now to what they have to say…
Feel the truth of an imagined confession.
Now you know that art is magic,
alive and tragic,
raving, righteous & tempestuous somehow…
that is what you know in the now
but back in the then
before the circuit could complete –
before you finished kiss so sweet –
the fire spread as coward fled.
Written by Jason Wright
March 16, 2017
For Max Vernon