A subtle key to darkness
is the light beam carving webs and shadows…
an orb aglow, a book unread,
the scent of sparkled dust;
it is the questions I’ve been spared.
“Why can’t you sleep my dear?”,
she asks — her voice is sharp:
a knife on broken glass;
and she goes back to sleep and leaves
me stranded, seeking absolution.
The key is last year’s withered grass;
will this heatwave ever cease?
When out of nowhere —
a sole mosquito comes abuzz;
seeking gentle blood of mine.
Thus passes night — a ceaseless arc
of dark unlocked in twilight,
when in my mourning dreams unleashed
I face the edge of daylight… saved.
I host dVerse on MTB at dVerse on the subject of enjambment and punctuation. Join us at 3 PM EST.
August 2, 2018