Chromatic: Gilded
What light leaves
Golden hour breaks and nothing holds its shape
Sun bleeds into the corners of the shoreline,
turning the waves into molten glass
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
This hour belongs to nothing
No sharp clarity of noon
Or cool absolution of night
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Standing where wet sand gives way,
ankles buried in lapping darkness,
where warmth brushes skin
and pulls back
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Air tastes heavy with old heat,
thick as wild honey unspooling,
coating our throats
too sweet to last
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Memory behaves like this light
Stretching shadows until they touch,
preserving every insect wing,
every almost-was, in bronze
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
We walked where the water erased us
almost as soon as we appeared
sweetgrass, hot cedar, something overripe
sweetness turning slowly animal
in the cooling air
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Firelight moving over our knees,
trying to remember us
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
We call it beautiful,
this burning down
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
We watch golden ichor pool in our hands,
small, survivable light,
knowing to hold it is to watch it turn to ash
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Dark is coming in from the horizon,
but for a moment,
we are suspended
caught in the amber,
perfect, and trapped,
and ending
This was completely unplanned and unexpected, and inspired by Kasu (small wounds)’s Chromatic prompt. Be sure to check out all of her amazing work and subscribe.
Don’t forget,
Stay gold Ponyboy. Stay gold.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Thanks for being here.
Until next time,
j
you really expressed that simple fleeting moment which seems to mean everything but for reasons forever unknown.
i haven't thought about 'gold lion' in so long!!
These are the moments. You got it.