Now that the house finally surrenders,
To silence on my terms
My divided time now renders
All the clawed back lines
Time interred by the slow procession of beasts,
Burdened by image made, for minds that retreat
Back into that slackened time, where
Nothing is required,
Nothing tethered
Just bound to be
I know that you think like me,
And minds are full of blackbirds,
Wind gusts, lost bees, blown
Off course by the night tides
Of the cold particle sea.
The thick of night,
The weight of night,
It enfolds darkened arms around,
All that sleep and dream inside
Without a sound, exposed
I belong to night, I know you do
It possesses me – it’s majesty
Its great gift, is the wind
From the wing of flown fowl,
And the quiet infatuation
Into the clinging mind
If I could be a dance then,
Dance of night I’d be,
Curtsy at the moon,
Then linger momentarily
Before waltzing all the dawn way down
And ending at the wailing sea
A dream? Awake, if by some
Mistake of fusion, this is here
Where I’ll always be, then you?
Perhaps our time holds still in night
And our dance won’t end
And the song won’t stop
And wind will long
And hold you near the pane
Rattling song, while I stand here.
Waiting for the blackbird to come,
shiver, then by long last shadow, disappear.
