their thin fuses ablaze

     - “the force that through the green fuse drives the flower”

                                                                                   -Dylan Thomas

 

The boats are now all a mangle

of broken spars. Pummeled,

the whale hulls of minivans

swell belly up in the sand.

 

The unsteady terrain a bedlam

of buckling walls, splintered cribs

and bits of riddled cloth. Trees

fallen. Homes lost to the sea.

 

Yet cracking the battered soil

an explosion of green stems

rises with the persistence

of galaxies unfurling.

 

The struck match of sun

balancing its radiant touch

on each blade, setting

their thin fuses ablaze.

 

 

END

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Published in Shooter

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