The Tower Journal, Spring/Summer 2014
What’s this talk of night
And rest, world settled
And unreachable? In war the dark
Does not descend. Night leers
Around the hairpin bend of day
With dripping jaws, tight
Chest and curled talons. Let all
Creatures crawl and scuffle, bark
Or whine or bellow. Let mottled fear
Shine white as an x-ray
On background of gray-scaled light.
Their version of night won’t blink, yet will
Stare and pin an easy mark
Like you once pinned butterflies. Hear
That? Your wings against the glass fray
And fold. Dim perception sends you right
Instead of left. Your shoes slip on metal
Grates that lead away from home. Stark
Comfort comes with sanctuary, never near
Enough. They will not wait for day.