In you, I see splinters of sun
with a river’s rhythm
lifting you into the chimney’s dark,
a cathedral of flaming spires
as my hungry arms reach out.
I hear the breathy excitement
of those who first hatched you from a feverish act of friction,
and I wonder whether the searing of meat
come fumbling from an accident
or a curious thought,
how we’ve since tortured flesh
till it’s shrivelled,
As you shrink into the dying slices of earth that feed you,
how can I not think of a life,
threaded through the things you’ll conquer?
Your prime is a craze of heat and vigour,
but you’ll cower and become no more
than a dotage of warmth
among ruins that soften and crack,
and even a child could sneeze you away.
Trevor Conway writes mainly poems, stories and songs. Subjects he typically writes about include nature, sport, society, creativity and interesting moments. His first collection of poems, Evidence of Freewheeling, was published by Salmon Poetry in 2015; his second, Breeding Monsters, was self-published via Amazon in 2018. Website: trevorconway.weebly.com