Dusk and Beyond
The dusk sky is a gameboard of bats,
everyone’s lost apologies for what
They knew they did wrong but could not find
The words to admit. Homeless things.
The poet’s night shift has me emotional–
The moon’s pendulum scythe swings
Below the tree line and I wake up astonished
To be alive. The poem holds a word
To my throat and the word is your missing
touch. In the world are some animals whose feet
Never touch the ground. Birds who only
Land on the uncertainty of open water.
Just as in you there are poems
that may never land on the tree of language
But whose wingbeats keep you awake,
Whose migration over open space
Turns everyone’s heads though they hear
Only your voice on a quiet morning.