there were faults, ducts formed by the earth tearing
our cities apart. Out of this madness, a cry mounted

as if by name, cursed what sky lay just above Zo'ar,
the small city (of which our guests apprised us), hailing me.

Down through the hills, brimstone slithered until its hot blue
tongues licked the dew off every wildflower

left standing on the plain, tempting darkness like cattle
or a creed into its oven of unslakable light.