But we did not lose the sun that night to the hem
of dark and day. Our mouths, our tongues, our teeth, our gums
held tight to that plump fruit of light and let it spin
in the back of our throats, made to reel at the edge
of shade. Our eyes gleamed bright, each nose did beam, as we
crouched to wait for dawn. Our ears flashed with shafts of light,
and there we were shards of glass forced to know the stars.
But we did not eat the sun that night, though its taste
bled sure and sweet. Our task was to hide it with our
locked off lips, and then, when broke morn, set its flame free.

© 2017 Stellular Scribe