A Glorious Darkness by Bill Fay
color pots of fairies
spilled
at November’s end
toward the certainty
of winter
ochre of oak leaves
rattling the teeth
of the breeze
exhales
farms and forests
the moon shines
in obligation
in the slow
drawl of darkness
bats fledge
over fallow fields
with eternal earth
whirling endlessly
on the turn
of a worm
coyotes
unpacked
and longing
disgorge
their tangled tales
and the twelve
stations of the stars
pass the hat
on cut-crystal horizons
while the wedge of night
rides the back
of the dragon’s
folded wings
to slain polaris
strange, the sound that light makes when it fails
a nightingale
singing like a brilliant cut
on a church steeple
the yard beneath
in dumb reply
this night
the angels
have fled
the head
of their pin
strange, the smell the darkness makes as it deepens
roses dry
as grandma’s heirlooms
chased in envy
as an echo
wondrous, the wisdom found in the mirror of day
why is joy a moment?
and regret forever?
why is nothing so dark and beautiful
as when a meteor mends its wounds in your eyes?
Want to submit your work?
Archive
- June 2021
- November 2021
- December 2021
- April 2022
- May 2022
- June 2022
- July 2022
- August 2022
- September 2022
- October 2022
- November 2022
- December 2022
- January 2023
- February 2023
- March 2023
- April 2023
- July 2023
- September 2023
- October 2023
- November 2023
- December 2023
- February 2024
- March 2024
- May 2024
- June 2024
- July 2024
- August 2024