by Natasha Keary

Their chatter, flashes and flickers
of envy
she moved, flushed
in all her young beauty

the illusion
would convict her.
she awoke alone
transient as

Hazy sunrise in August
brimming in the vigour
of youth
like red hot pokers
under the sky

all dried away
to nothing.

She did not see
and laughed heartily
it would be wiser
to return