Darkness – Page 72

with needle sharp teeth
and razor edged claws they tear
my curtains to shreds
–
silence-
the thunder
of tiny feet

moonlight runs into
the soft hollow of your throat
and spills down your breast
–
blue black night
the grey owl
becomes the moon

clinging to the flames
my mortal sins escape me
carried by the wind
–
absolution
casting bread
upon the water

small talk in their booth
a dinner plate shatters and
she’s back in Iraq
–
turning winds
a yearling doe
prepares to bolt

luminous, rising
from below an ebony lake
in her hand, a sword
–
sunlit hillsides
shadows rolling
slowly to the shore

after images
through the rain streaked windowpanes
impending thunder
–
mountain stream
a whisper of
quiet nonsense

ripped from a deep sleep
waking up in tattered clothes
not sure where I am
–
full moon rising
my true form
no longer hidden

an ominous day
dark clouds pass before the sun
portents of ruin
–
stippled hillsides
revealing light and
fleeting shadows

thin walls, raised voices
across the street, it’s last call
in my third floor flat
–
crow on a gaslight
fog blanketing
cobblestones

watching you watch me
through heavily lidded eyes
as sleep becomes you
–
brindle underbrush
a chipmunk rests
beneath the leaves