Lanterns

I sat and watched a dream last night. It took
me to the city people wander when
they sleep. There are no streetlights there, but in
each left hand is a lamp; each right, a book,
and people hold their lanterns high to look
at what is written there. Some flames are thin;
they suffocate on breezes, sputter, spin
as helplessly as maggots on the hook.
I do not worry for the weak-flamed, though,
when any light at all prevents the shade
from each of many happy spheres. I fear
for those whose hearty fires snap and go
out in a gasp of gust, for those that fade
as fuel burns, as seconds disappear.

n Lutz

by John Lutz

 Lutz

Last year, the Editors of TBAW decided to officially split from Quiddity, heralding a temporary dry spell of fiction posts. After reviewing this decision, we have chosen to re-introduce fiction into TBAW, starting with this poem by contributor John Lutz. Expect to see more poems and short stories in the near future.

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s