by Dominik Brotherton, UK
I sit on a boulder that harbours a pregnant explosion; unpredictable and total in its perennial extinctive catharsis; & listen for a seismic whisper in this calm basaltine night. I lie on a volcanic sheath; separating me from the magmatic plumage of mantle convection; & wonder if the grasses of the world will tonight forever conceal their blades. I look up at the nuclear fusion of a billion burning suns; here, squinting specks of sugar in the obsidian void; & ask the void my conflagrant questions about our inexorable tectonic fate. Fire above me. Fire below me. Cold in the wind's midnight breath.