The fires had touched me.
Oh! The fires had touched me.

Midnight flowers bloomed at the heavens,
Enchanting the fishermen at sea:
Come.
Come.
Let us dine on land.

The new moon slept.
And the mignight flowers whispered:
Come.
Come.

Fishes dined by the light of men’s torches.
Alluring.
Bedazzling sweet midnight fire.
Leap into the net of young men.
Fishes, rest unto the wooden boats.

The midnight flowers’ sensuous fires
Pulling the fishermen from the sea:
Come.
Come.
Bring the fishes to me.

Its unseen fires had touched me—
And she died,
She died.
The midnight flowers died at day.

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© 2019 Onie Maniego and The Paper Drafts

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