Fires Edge

the lime tree in my garden

is flush

with emerald green gems

a fertile island in a barren sea

I will roll them down to rivers edge

to serve passing strangers

I will squeeze life out of them

into cakes, cordials and curds

juice seeping into the cracks in my fingers

stings, sharp and painful

like your words

when your day has been long and your temper short

I saw Kinglake scorched from my balcony one day

but now it is you who flares like embers

lighting up the night sky

a shooting star set to flash and burn

Image: lime tree

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