Night

Night
tired chords at morning play
But I’ve seen you strut
two-bit dance steps
locked and worn out knees

Night
I used to fear the absolute
darkness
starless and settled in
But now the yellow glow of snow

You walk in rubber-soled slippers
needlessly padded collar
blink
You walk in halls of bartered cedar
half-off, half-worn by your greed

Speak of sliding shadows
tattered moments in needless words
Night, you were never a martyr
slipped back in black
watered-down mud

Night
brandishing a soiled cloak
faces pressed, stain
their eyes half-closed
too tired now

Night
defiance, I remember well
when PR men in starched staunch suits
sat across tea and spoke of darkness
the cool wind, the vengeful sun

How in half truths I saw you spin
spin, slowly
the white-winged widows dancing
dancing across the marble entry-way
painted black, painted to hide your avarice

You spoke, as if scorned
as if you deserved something more
but you are not a martyr
You speak of hate, redemption
when none awaits you

Three, three gone
in the yellow glow of winter
spent out in the shadows
the gluttonous ruts of melting credibility
pooled in blood

Night
they marched you down the empty hall
faint applause in the alleyway
good PR for men in starched suits
reaching, like Icarus, for the sun.