Stuart Kenyon

Silent Return

The sun burned         the flesh of the sky       like
a cigarette                      and the tungsten rockets slashed
scars on the aqua skin            a real flogging

             Tomorrow had been a distant memory
of you               and the smell of your stubs
stamped          stumped               finished but lingering
at least for a year or two

Your body ash left a stain       as big as the ocean         with
as many palpitations as an anxious Poseidon
beating             goodbye                        but not hello

Like a Thunderbird 2 lung       you hid            a wooden craft
a bitter pill for the ocean to swallow

An empty stream         a wooden shell             a spent shell
ready to ignite              like the bonfire inside

A fire once extinguished                                    but now
             a rekindled flame                sparks
colossal             in the sky