Night’s not as open as the day;
her space leans into us like curves
forming a tighter cave, a tighter cage.
To comfort, we talk through the dark
whispering across a nascent fire;
I listen close to your words in hope
I can construct a consolation against
all the fears I gather from the day.
Day’s light provides a multitude
of minute divisions; one can almost
mark where one turns into two,
where words soft flow grows sharp,
and we cut our eyes, and bleed tears.
(June 12, 2014)
