Posts Tagged ‘night’

Confronting November

With its dark shadows airborne,
a coven of witches has
silently taken to the midnight sky.
If only they would honk,
dispel the chill that has been cast.

Having dispensed with costumes,
the night now defines us.
Intently, the stars stare and judge.
In their ancient presence
voices are humbled to a whisper.

Time has lost track of our steps.
In the distance between
streetlights we turn into specters.
Confronted by winter’s
enormity, its epoch consumes us.

Breath now an evaporating cloud,
futilely, we bury hands in
the dark corners of our pockets.
Ungloved, November’s
iron fist manifests its dominance.


How Long The Night

Later, that insult delivered unwittingly,
carelessly said, will sing in
sleep’s silence to announce its presence.

An unchanged loop on constant replay,
how long the night, with regrets
whispered in a bed of my own making.

Contrition is a moon composed of iron,
its spotlight’s intensity wasted
when barred by her curtained window.

Entangled in its phosphorescence,
having succumbed to dream,
remorse wakes me gasping for breath.


In a house this old,
the doddering floorboards speak for
no discernible reason.
Awakened by a creak not repeated,
to still a racing heart,
the blame is placed on the wind,
a shifting foundation,
some anxious four-legged creature
scurrying overhead.
Anything safely locked outside.
But like reason,
daylight’s infusion of bravery
wears thin in the dark.
The adrenaline of doubt whispers,
who can be sure?
Be it by moon or streetlamp,
illuminated shadows
seem to breathe and lengthen
into a ghost town
of remembered childhood fears.
Floorboards assume
the weight of ancient complaints.
And yet, if the past
is still alive, in sleep it escapes
into fictitious dream.
Or so morning reassures when
silent seams concur.