ghosts of fire

we stared at glow sticks worn
round necks and wrists until
the national anthem came
and went out like the beam
of a lighthouse smoke stretching
its wings to the highway
where cars pulled over to watch
the sky burst into hands
reaching for us ghosts of fire
and waiting for traffic
to leave I found a glow stick
in mulch a lavender
grown so dull it could not shake
the shadow from my fist

Geoff Anderson