• The moon sapped the blues from the sky,
    leaving behind glowing, radioactive dust
    and an emptiness that lasted to the gates of heaven.

    We watched the glimmers,
    the sands of time:
    scattered on the brink of our sight
    and infected with memories
    and infected with memories (moments, millennia)
    that shone like burning magnesium.
    They seemed close enough to pick
    like apples,
    to feel the sulphur
    burn black-hole-stigmata into our hands,
    there to remind us of the beginning.