In a turning instant, my head
Catches light of a leaping star
Over my left shoulder in a
Green region of space darkened
Into distance beyond distance,
A cold, green star, not rising like
Sons and empires, slow as breath,
In the way of stars, but as no
Darkened water could have mirrored
The partly glimpsed meteor in
Surging reversal of falling-
That sort of rising. They return
Bright rightings of our sinisters,
The mirrors; but this rise of light—
As if in summer nights at still
Moments a death could yet retract,
Or a dim candle gutter on-
Freshens the held air; far away,
Somewhere a breath has been taken.
Another Firefly
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