Broadcast at
dusk or into the late night hours,
Signals blink
on and off like beacons on dry land,
Dot and dash
the dark wood line,
Grab my eyes
in rapid flashes from left to right;
Erratic pulses
of light meander and beckon,
Attract and
confuse, leave the night in darkness--
Without a
day’s illusions--
Create strokes
on a dark slate.
Untranslated
language written on air with light,
Messages I
can’t decipher,
Transient
words without sound,
Mating sonnets
and warrior battle hymns.
With hands
cupped to hold a heat-less flame,
I reach for one
and then another, extinguished
Before my
fingers can surround the flight
And seize a
drop of light.
© cmheuer,
2015
