Sunday, January 4, 2015

(Another) Old Poem


In the square of moonlight
the trapdoor 
opened. Nails
now rusted
no longer held sway.

Outside, the wind
held its breath
as what slithered up from below
readied itself for seduction.

We listened in the straining dark,
listened to the world
list, groan, and bend,
then slowly split itself wide
to what came.

We knew the night
was undressing,
knew that, afterwards,
our bodies would never 
be the same,
knew that tomorrow the sun
would shine
a different light.

Photographer unknown
Poem written approx. 2005

1 comment:

Rot said...

I really dig this one.