I would appreciate your comments. I am working on this for the Insomnia
contest which has the subject "Night."
Dark Night
In a real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the
morning..
F. Scott Fitzgerald, "The Crack-Up" (1945)
Night slips its noose around the heart.
The mind snaps open, questions what?
Shadows pool on the stairs.
No one answers. Mirrors stare.
A streetlight reveals a halo, stark,
cold. Nothing stirs
or lives or cares. Remember then
the last cruel thing you said.
Remember then your mother's face
thin as a hatchet, the spirit fled.
Stench of flowers, an organ's piety,
pity for ourselves who shall come to this.
Remember a kiss, revel in it,
wet, warm as sun.
Remember your lover, friend,
taken from your side.
Know the loss, suck it dry, a lemon
on the tongue. Then close your eyes.
A twig scratches, a night bird complains,
a small hopeful thing,
the first sign of dawn, a stir of wings.
Sue Scalf
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