Issue 155, Summer 2000
our cities apart. Out of this madness, a cry mounted
as if by name, cursed what sky lay just above Zo'ar,
the small city (of which our guests apprised us), hailing me.
Down through the hills, brimstone slithered until its hot blue
tongues licked the dew off every wildflower
left standing on the plain, tempting darkness like cattle
or a creed into its oven of unslakable light.