Ignis et Lazuli

Two masses of clouds illuminated
one by moonlight, the other,
the red glow of cities
Converging as a storm blows
in from the sea
and out over the mountains

Pounding hail piles on the concrete
beating on tender green shoots
in a thick cacophony of ice
The pots are pulled inside
out from under the torrential freeze
onto the dirty rug by the door

Teeth rotting at their roots,
the tram grinds on the tracks
bearing down on poor Berlioz
Beezelbub sits on a park bench
conjuring the future out of
trumps and stars and fire

Tarps flap in the gusts of wet air
whistling through gaps in lots
animating blossoming trees
As it wanders wildly through
streets abandoned to the
flicker of screens and warmth of walls

A golden viper, thirty cubits in length
with a long beard and eyes
of true lapis lazuli
Tells the shipwrecked sailor
where he will die and Homeless,
the poet, sees the prophecy fulfilled

Masks and costumes revolving over
centuries marked by receding cliffs
as the sea froths and calms again
The storm blows in and the clouds
take on the shapes of new masks
covering old faces

Traces of lapis lazuli glimmer through one eye
and a single flame gleams from the other