The strokes like midnight’s blooming flower
black petaled and with un-abiding stench
The shrug of thorns from unshod feet
pinching, sinister penetrations of bared soles
struggling to find a pathway through the dark.
The clouds clear, a moonbeam shot
in diademic splendor is cracked
like a gold vein running deep into
a lava pit.
Sulfurous fumes consume
late night party goers.