Something There Was in the Night

The day came when I had to look away
when the earth in all its blurry pint sized
stillness rippled in beer glasses half drunk

and looking out onto the quiet hillside
where studded against dark passion
lay mottled specks of trees and grasses
blowing vacantly, vacuously
I turned and walked home

The full moon looked like so much effort
The voices, distant now, were left in my glass
where quietly they looked at each other, confused
The voices, the angels, the tempters of peace
and knowledge sprouted like budding like
thoughts on the wing of quiet contemplation
now stilled

Something around the streetlamp
and the asphalt, double yellow line
slicing into the distant towns
townhouses crowded with babies
and mothers and brothers and sisters
and I cut my path through the night

Something around the moon hazed
softly and around the babies
and mothers and brothers and sisters
and lovers awake in their beds
and I – now stopped, now standing
silently erect – faced the moon
and cried

From balconies came cries of music
a stray violin sounding the words
to hymns caught in my throat
A man coughed a soft reproach as if
against the darkness a lover strayed
and somewhere a voice called
softly echoing
……… a beckoning
towards the strait gate

And the hour struck and I stood –
– the hour struck and I missed the mark
it went tumbling past

The moon set over the hillside as the gray
break of dawn lifted the ashen skies
and, too late, I realized it wasn’t me –
the voices, the angels, the tempters of fate
– it surrounded, engulfed in purity
like the darkness that gives streetlamps
their light
……… it wasn’t me
it was the night

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