Lexicon

- Rory Frasch (New York, USA)

All night, the darlings of the sky burn between 

stretches of tongues and summer storms. 

Laughter bubbling in their chests, they stop momentarily to look at the stars.

Staying between the folds of flowers, 

In the smell of blossoms, the sun looks to all the careless fathers of the world and 

Prays for their blessings,

Sandwiched between each other,

She hoped that her parents didn’t speak this way to each other when they were alone,

For she held her mother’s face in her features 

And she feared the way it wrinkled,

All night, the darlings of the sky burn between

The motions of sullen sarcasm and impersonations,

Her pale friend, 

Her vivid lover,

Until they cannot keep their eyes open;

Moon in their tides.