Clare McCullough

Snap of the Whip

Whimpering fire

Snap of the Whip

Stones grinding then

Clack Clack Clack

Flame spills over the wood

Crack Crack Crack

The wind blows less gentle

Whoosh Whoosh Whoosh

Every time the earth sits

Creak Creak Creak

On the edge of its ellipse

(…) (…) (…)

My home in a city by a lake

Crash Crash Crash

Cream-colored brick

Thump Thump Thump

Fire flashes then

Blink Blink Blink

With a light so bright that

Crack Crack Crack

It ignites and a stray spark

Clack Clack Clack

Drifts to me and I am the sun itself

Snap of the Whip

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