Light

still she counts the ships-
her thick wool sweater stained red
with the setting sun
–
date night-
she sits at a table
set for one

heavy evening air-
silhouettes of hunting bats
in the fading light
–
drawn curtains-
low clouds
full of malice

stone temple ruins-
echoes of ancient bronze bells
call the monks to prayer
–
summer sunlight-
wending through
the splintered roof

turkey tail mushrooms-
beauty found within decay
and reclamation
–
in the dark-
nimble fingers pick
the mushroom harvest

plying the trade winds-
seeking safe harbor under
an ocean of sky
–
rolling seas-
sails reefed
before the storm

all the leaves scattered
standing despite itself but
rotten at the core
–
a forest altar-
oaken pews
standing empty

hundreds of candles-
an unlit testament to
this empty vigil
–
tumbled stone-
autumn’s first light
warms the piazza

monsters in my head
clamor at the gates of hell
screaming to be let out
–
the hiss of rain-
slow scratching
under my bed

the sun reaches down
and kisses the horizon
at the dawn of dusk
–
spreading warmth-
two more fingers
of liquid gold

the edge of the moon
nicks the night sky and reveals
the bare hint of light
–
cloaked in darkness-
betrayed by
a cigarette