“Smoke and Moonlight”
Threads of smoke entwine, blinding,
binding, drawing the world in upon
sweat and skin. Fabrics interwoven
with patchouli and camphor block
the pale light of the waning crescent,
its last hours barred by homespun cloth.
Smoldering incense and opium in the holder,
the flickering flame of a green candle, not
light enough to lay bare beads of sweat
on skin as they offered themselves up to me,
drug-willing, in sacrifice to forever dreams.
The garden remains, burnt tent poles and
the circle of the fire pit stones still mark
time rent from stream and order for a while.
Essence of those nights, the threads
of smoke that bind the out-of-time to time
call back, lend body to sweet-savored ghosts,
passions hid no longer from the dying moon.
Copyright © 2015-09-08, by Liz Bennefeld. All rights reserved. Written in response to a Poetry 101 Rehab prompt, “Smoke”.
Oddly, this was a compilation of images evoked by recent rereading of Moonstone, by Wilkie Collins and from Mercedes Lackey’s Elemental Masters series…and where those led me.