The Lantern's Vigil
The lanterns drift,
the seams darkening,
their paper prayers
creased from handling,
as the river lifts them—
past the slow drag of sand.
Reeds lean when they brush past,
more yellow flares caught
in the moon’s combustion—
and the stuttering light
of empty chairs
pulled close to the bank—
bodies pulling back,
wet hands,
each thinning wick.
smoke escaping into the night.
The wind moves through them,
nudging their dimming shells,
small circles widening
as the water
takes them under.
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