Sunday 23 January 2011

The Afterthoughts of Streetlamps

In the early morning or late night darkness of the dark
and darkening outside; streetlamps

flick wild flames of impassioned words,
sticking to roofs in all the corners, underneath

guttering; the mimicking day glow
sputters. I teeter on the windowsill watching

with abandoned features the slick
of the early morning or late night darkness, thickening

down ravines of pot-holed tarmacadam,
and I do not care if I am seen.

I want to sit and breathe the air and hope
the early morning, when it dispels the late night

darkness, will distil its newness and all that is new
of day and sun into my skin and in, my blood-

stream needs it - so neighbours pull your
curtains so that they touch and fend off the darkening

outside, don’t blame me if voyeur cat-like eyes
impose on your insides' goings-on; or meet me

as I meet the world tonight, if you wish, stand
vigil with me as the early morning comes.

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