Matthew Geden

That night the disappearing Mayo light
lingered long, fooled us into thinking
we were younger, still setting out
in the slow sunset of our youth.

As the sky sank into firelight
we lay lazily beneath emerging
stars, letting thoughts drift into
cosmology and the comforts of space,

watching a broad canvas of dreams
unfurl. That was the night when
your lips tasted of atomic dust,
your yellow dress a shimmering sun

and the perception of motion moved
us as we stilled; we shone easily
then, light dispersing the shadows,
unaware of the dark varnish that covers us all.