POEM: Cave Days

Stars framed by the dropped rock chasm in the cave roof.

A smoky man and smoky woman sit,

staring up at that rhomboidal field of stars —

a window to the infinite.

They can’t imagine by what means the picture has changed,

when they awake in the middle of the night.

But neither can they grasp how tongues of flame eat wood and glow heat,

and yet they’ve learned to spark fire.

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