Mary Cresswell

M a r y  C r e s s w e l l

Lost Light

Every night the glare

grew brighter.

Sodium slammed off

neighbours’ walls,

neon flicked past mirrors

across my blankets

and was gone. Far north,

the aurora fluttered

once, twice, three times

but―getting no answer―

swirled her skirts

and moved on.

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