Yesterday

Yesterday

Yesterday I wished I was a firework.
Not one of those
That is part of a
Public display:
Nothing so unsubtle
Nothing so easily missed
Where a guy with a swede for a head
Gets caught up in the excitement
And allows himself to be burned
For our entertainment
Head bowed like a drunk
Laughing into his polystyrene chest.

Not one of those
That's all noise and no flourish
That makes the babies jump and howl
And rings in the ears like a dialling tone
Long after the last sachet
Of mulled wine is infused
And the last toffee apple dismantled.

And not a roman candle or a golden shower
That lasts for a second or two
Less than expected
Every year
Like finding out Guy Fawkes
Was just your Dad with a taper
And a bad joke
Handing out the sparklers
Juggling a lighted lager
And and a marshmallow smile.

No, I wished I was a firework
That started slowly
With barely a flame
Then grew and opened
Like a white-hot orchid
Emerging from a rain-forest fog.
And as it swelled pulsating violet
Soldered the surface of the stratosphere
Like a dashing comet
And held like a breath
Those who watched.

Until blazing an iris blue
It rolled its shape
Into an lidless eyeball
Sweeping the watchers
With its omniscient stare.
Then - as if recalling
An unfinished task -
It turned skyward
Clocked the arrogant moon
For a tense second and
Blasted a green laser-beam
Into its skin
Piercing it through
Like button-thread.
Turning again
With a flash of triumph
Circled its audience once
And rocketed out of sight
Sighing a trail of sulphur.

As the watchers turned to go
Rain dripped warm
From a gaping sky.