spearing into the sky, firework
the burn of gunpowder,
lashing sulphur, phosphorus flame
carefully acclimatised soldier nightsight
navigating by the glow of starlight and the radiant blackness of an invisible-in-earth-shadow moon
gone in an instant of dilated wide pupils taking in your blake tyger aura obliterating the night

five minutes of breathtaking artistry across the arch of the sky
and then the long, silent, falling back
with you burnt into memory
and not much else

besides the tranquillity of phosphorus waves
the resurgence of crickets
and the reassuring warmth of celestial, Buddha calm, subtler, better, starlight.