Everything cramped—
Too large for spaces.
I'm fearful
Of the lamps’ oases,
Obliterating
Our magic places.
A giant eraser
Used with caution
Could exorcise
The mind’s concoctions,
What's left
Would be sufficient,
To push back darkness
Create some distance—
To be opaque
Decode my rebus,
In looking-glass letters,
Divulge my secrets.
For I am tired
Of living covert,
Remaining a quiet,
Brooding lover,
With secrets darker
Than the moon’s penumbra.
