We would mix sulphur and coal for days
And let it dry on string cot in warm sun.
We stuffed mixture in newspaper cones.
Lighted cones hissed like snakes in a sky
Only to dive some times to waiting straw
On sleeping houses, recently laid to roof.
We made cloth balls of stones in sulphur
To bang on decrepit walls for a loudness.
We made holes in star smiles on posters.
We made such sound in moonless night
That birds shut their ears in mango tree
With not even a flutter heard in leaves.