Intolerance Poem by Emily Buckley

stillness
and the moon hung high is all I remember
wait
thick air and melon scented candles
a low, lasting drum of thunder
maybe
a soft hand upon my shoulder
were we in the corn?
in the corn?
incorrectly pacing hopes on tall impossible pedestals
by the ocean
in the ocean
letting waves lick us clean
hidden folds tie unseen bonds between brothers
brothers who forget they share the same mother
and childhood dreams
fire fire
is it passion or method for nonrefundable destruction
burning corn
burning waves
burning minds around the carousel
we laugh