I have spoken of this night as private

I have spoken of this night as private
As a windfall of slick residues of black

Treating solitude with the care of a child
Doing her rounds in the everyday in the

Everysome corners that shy not, retire not
From daylight, and breathe in the remnants

Of day left over after five thousand years
Of night. I have spoken of this night as private.

This entry was posted in Poetry.

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