…in the derelict shop, black and yellow
“do not cross” summoned us to play.
Every inch of the wreck was cool, but
the charred remains on the table were best;
we imagined the tortures of hell
in our captured enemy base.
Moonlight shone through the ceiling
on that lone table, and we
interrogated each other for hours,
weaving a blanket of lies
’til the cold of dawn broke
Then we let the ghosts lie, snuck home:
warm beds, breakfasts,
lives not destroyed by loss.
Kaolin Imago Fire is a conglomeration of ideas, side projects, and experiments. Outside of his primary occupation, he also develops computer games, edits Greatest Uncommon Denominator Magazine, and very occasionally teaches computer science. He has had poetry published in Strange Horizons, Every Day Weirdness, and Bull Spec, among others.