Fireworks

Green is gorgeous is too soon gone, / she thought. Rockets fell toward new year’s dawn.

By Mike Allen

Green is gorgeous is too soon gone,
she thought. Rockets fell toward new year’s dawn.
Green is baked to brown when warmed too long.

Delay the winter, murder summer’s spawn,
she said. Snow had yet to blot this moonlit lawn.
Green is gorgeous is too soon gone.

Green is all around, he waved. You’re wrong.
Her retort drowned out by auld lang song.
Green is baked to brown when warmed too long.

Our will to act is weak, our poisons strong.
Her frown ignited by his mocking yawn.
Green is gorgeous is too soon gone.

She shrugs away his hand, invite withdrawn.
They came in his car, else she’d move on.
Green is baked to brown when warmed too long.

More fireworks streak the night like frightened fawns.
Beyond them, beer-blurred stars eye Babylon.
Green is baked to brown when warmed too long,
she thought. Green is gorgeous, is too soon gone.


Mike Allen edits and publishes Mythic Delirium Books in Roanoke, Virginia. His short stories have been gathered in three collections: Unseaming; The Spider Tapestries; and Aftermath of an Industrial Accident. Publisher Broken Eye Books plans to release his dark fantasy novel Trail of Shadows next year. A two-time finalist for the World Fantasy Award and the Shirley Jackson Award, Mike has also been a Nebula Award nominee and a three-time Rhysling Award winner for poetry.

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