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Duncan Fellows
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Mt. Silver
I woke up to a dying flame
Sitting in its crackling grave
Dance around in your new skin
breathe in deep, but breath is thin
When oh when will morning come?
The moon she stood, suitcase in hand
Stuck between her spinning plans
They say she smiles as you rest
and turns the lights on from the West
When oh when will morning come?
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Then our dreams
dripped away
down the mountain
swelling light
sour bones
steady counting
the time, we rose, for life, for morning
our minds, held close, the heights, white snow and
We let our heads fall back
warm blood all rising
bodies brushed the canvas of the sky
flushed violet
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