Which  hand is the penny in?
I think I'd like to be tricked again
Once more silver eye
I seldom sense it in your sigh
Oxygen conversion is your diversion

I hear the horns against the cliff
A moon familiar crescent slips
Silently from the sea
Are you..
Are you quite alone?

I feel the frost on my bones
Memories split the northern sky
The stars call me
A glow like fire I have known
Caught upon the web of words
I remain
Listening Night

Tangled in the hair of you
I sniff war smoke
You do not waver
I do not
Tightening the knot

Blood I wish to not know you
Pouring perfume round nostrils
Flared
Jaw so clenched
Pulse
I taste your presence in my throat

Blood drunk among the fray
Or curled warm among the furs
That night before the sea
I dream of it

Pitch dark night
mutely complains against starlight,
fireflies, moon beams and each spec of light
seeping in from galaxies lost in billion year dreams

The greatest injustice,
in the voice of wind, night murmurs
is light that makes discordant notes
marring the spellbinding orchestra conducted by darkness
extending softly like a drapery of silk, all over the world
rising and falling to an invisible baton's moves, swift or slow.

But her reign, she forgets, is only till sun comes
riding his chariot and seamlessly continue
drowning the music of darkness,
completely in his tenor of light touching alto soon enough