Cerebral phosphorescence occurs

when I stoop to write a line

freighted with ripened citrus fruit.

Or when you stroke your favorite cat

and her fur shivers and sparkles.

More secretly, it happens when dreams

get emotional and I run out of luck.

Last night we attended church

and took the front pew to ensure

that our prayers would fill with helium

and rise to the highest level.

Then you and everyone else

disappeared, leaving me shivering

as a demon took the pulpit

and preached the politics of hate.

By the light of my sizzling mind

I could see the physical wrong

exert itself like a wrestler.

The phosphorescence thickened

into a paste I could scrape from my skull

and apply to anything that needed

illumination. In my panic, 

I rolled screaming on the church lawn

as the entire village darkened.

Now awake in grayish daylight

I listen to your daily rictus

and thank my self-illumination

for what little I know of us

and the baggy space we occupy.