Tonight the ceiling fan
clicks with every turn.
The bedside clock ticks
and tocks in moonglow.
I close my eyes
and one by one
the light bulbs in
the house explode.
The darkness
becomes me,
I think.
I wear it silky black,
a spider-tailored suit
imponderous as ether.
I focus on the anesthetic sound
of a future breathing inside me.
Memory folds like
an obsolete map—
a distant archipelago
of diminishing stars.
Years ago, I’m sure,
we married in a copse
blue with wild hyacinth.
Tonight the satellites
cut like diamond tips,
lugubrious orbits etching
across a bedroom window.
Dawn always blooms with
the sound of breaking glass.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 4:37 PM UTC
Tonight the ceiling fan
clicks with every turn.
The bedside clock ticks
and tocks in moonglow.
I close my eyes
and one by one
the light bulbs in
the house explode.
The darkness
becomes me,
I think.
I wear it silky black,
a spider-tailored suit
imponderous as ether.
I focus on the anesthetic sound
of a future breathing inside me.
Memory folds like
an obsolete map—
a distant archipelago
of diminishing stars.
Years ago, I’m sure,
we married in a copse
blue with wild hyacinth.
Tonight the satellites
cut like diamond tips,
lugubrious orbits etching
across a bedroom window.
Dawn always blooms with
the sound of breaking glass.
