shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Liz Dolan

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I have sliced an orange into five wedges
for you. It is all I have. Take it. Press it to your lips.

Inhale its pithy fragrance. Cup it in your hand
like fire from which we will each light a wick

to hold in our folded fingers. A rosary of blue beads glistens
under a blue moon. A sloe-eyed young man swoons in the dark pine wood.

A host of fertile acolytes attends him chanting in unison
until a litany of foreign cackles cracks above the shower of sparks.

One voice, the voice of a shackled demon, rises above the rest
renting the dark in two. Yet children still sparkle in the trees.

Berries sprout in the sea.