One night I waited still in the brush behind my house as fireflies began, flitting between the branches of my fingers and alighting on my skin. I coaxed them into a jar with my finger tips and closed it held it close, its gentle warmth against my chest.

I carried myself in my old canoe out into the ocean. The moon was fat and heavy in the starless sky and hung close to the water. The ripples of my oar shone like silver against this black plane, spreading out farther than I could see as I deeped into the night.

When I was too far out from land to see I opened the jar and set them into the sky. They floated up and lit around me, the ripples of my rocking boat, the whole of the ocean was made bright. I saw Coelacanth in his bed, watching the other fish with old and tired eyes. The Lord of the Ocean snaked his way through schools of coloured fish.

They went higher and became the stars Seginus and Mintaka, deeper into the sky and leaving me to night. They lit still on me as I rowed back and into my bed window.

I dreamt I was standing in a vast black expanse. A woman named Miranda ran by me with a yellow glow in hand. I watched as she formed glowing trails curving through the air, running off and leaving words behind her.

I called out for her to stop and she ran backwards, her choler still in the air beside her and laughed, bidding me to chase.