Thrust close your smile
that we know you, terrible joy.
snuffs the candle flame
leaving a thin grey plume quickly dissolving into murky silence
to understand the inner workings of the humming bird
dissect the silken tapestry of its breast
with a twinkling steel blade
to capture the lurching witchcraft of a dream
take a screenshot of your brain
in the full flight of sleep
now to capture authenticity,
I whisper thunderously through a loudspeaker
in the silvery glow of the moonlit woods
halting the critter-rustle under bush,
dispersing bat and owl into unreachable shadow
Brendon Booth-Jones grew up in South Africa, and currently lives in Vietnam. His poetry has appeared in Botsotso. His prose and photography have appeared in Zigzag.