September Poem 27: The Killing Light

The light that you might see looking out the

Back door at a twilit morning. The street-

Light just brighter than the purpled light

Glowing over small hills. The light that pulled

You out of bed at four in the morning

To check on your dogs in their pin because

They didn’t even perk up to the sound

Of you moving in the dark. But you just

Couldn’t make it past your back steps. The light that

You mistake for the glow of the exhaust

In your neighbor’s tail lights as he scraped ice

From the windshield of his truck. The light that

Sends you back in with a chill. The light that

Just felt too wrong. Each of us holds the light.

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April Poem 27: NaPoWriMo

If the cornerstone happened

Inviting nature of gold to the communicator,

The bed with all the pillows and the sun

Would begin to peek through

The lace curtains that just happened.

 

I was in a twilight world between

The dying faces of the crowd.

I could conceive other four senses.

 

Because of the after.

Because all is from care.

I tried to keep his son

From glancing up from the paper,

Taking his eyes from the making of a mess.