A Match in the Dark


A match is struck against the coarse side of the box
Three plumes alight like down on a wintry mountainside.

They dance gingerly round their frail wooden host,
Thrilling but scaring the dark they kept for company.

The boundary between light and dark tango silently with the rhythm,
All in tandem with an unheard song:

They dance, but they don’t know why.