Ragged Things

...into air, back up so high for a moment and then back down again, but to a different place. Perhaps we'll go out to the island and watch the moon for a bit and listen to the monsters dance and sing. The demon lovers rest on a rock beyond the tide and melt like magma upon one another.
We rest and think about the queens out buried in the trees, behind the walls. Workers hurrying in both the light and the night. They are busy and the queens wait. We could wait forever on the shore, watching the signals flare out from the other islands. Not ignoring them, but letting them exist with us. It is a reverent thing, in the glinting lights, the loud and whimsical singing, the lone spot of moon overhead, crying like a virgin, seeping translucence.
Quick, as quick as we can. The light is faster and the shore does not end. The islands do not open until the end when it is already too late. The light fades and I am high again, looking around, waiting.