The boy fears monsters, things that creep at night.
Beds half-empty, the widows weep at night.
I walk with my mother through a moonlit
town only accessible in sleep. Night
holds its prisoners tight. So does guilt. Too
much vodka – our clothes in a heap that night.
Dawn. The sun begins its dazzle. Alarms
yank dreamers out of dreams. Birds’ wings sweep night
from yards. She embraces sweatpants, pony-
tails gray hair. Cool took too much upkeep – night
after night of eyeliner and witty
retorts. If you sow shadow, you’ll reap night.
Sharp words from the morning hover like bees.
The day’s unmet desires seep into night.
Teen years spent following the punk bands’ beat.
Makeup like war paint, we’d leap into night.
Dreading the coming day, he drank and watched
the darkness dissipate. Fickle, cheap night.
The air chills. Sunset’s pinks splash on the sky.
The thin river’s cold, the mountain steep. Night
doesn’t fall, it rises – thick and pulsing.
His inhibitions burrow deep at night.
The cat on Stone’s chest stretches. So many
shelves for climbing, why stay asleep at night?