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