Flashes of White Fire

In a concrete-reinforced bunker,

install some taxidermied creatures, such as magpies

clutching maple boughs, or a barn owl,

forever hooting at no one in particular.

Gather items you remember most—

sunshine, stones, aromas—but wait, suddenly nearby

is the vivid shape of something strange:

a giant fist, in luminously stormy weather,

smashing tiny dancers as they skate

backwards awkwardly on a Lilliputian ice pond.

Apparently, the End is coming.

A final tally will determine your survival.

Check your answers—rank them last to first,

then eliminate the one that gleams too brightly,

as if lightning flashes of white fire,

dividing Light from Dark, as Duality began,

calling the World into existence,

while a band of brilliance moved upon storm-tossed waters.

Alison Jennings is a Seattle-based teacher who volunteered at a writing center, inspiring a return to poetry. She's had a mini chapbook and 125 poems published in numerous journals: Mslexia, Society of Classical Poets, and The Raw Art Review. https://sites.google.com/view/airandfirepoet/home.