late sometimes
in the white noise
of the kitchen
night light
I’m withdrawn to
the first lunula of shadow
beyond the bright arc
awaiting earlier days
so many more
around then than now
I close lights
to darken still
I choose nights
cozier, a head under blankets
in wind and light rain, warmer
the smell of earth and
rich-hydrogen, air over lapping water
where salts outrun updrafts
I am happy
torn apart, enlightened and
rendered in heather
we grasp hands
and fly low over
dreamscapes
a kiss in wind-spun cascade,
winsome in the crescent
of banked firelight
it’s again tonight and
I’m in the kitchen
once more awash
in fluorescence
Chagall 2018
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