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"Poetry is the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash." Leonard Cohen

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

IN THE NIGHTS SAMHAIN











Twirling her cape like a matador,
she stepped into a haze of dusk,
shot through with the final remnants
of a deranged sunset ; daisy-chains
of coral, peach, and salmon,
strung along the horizon, fighting
against the dark.

It was her favourite time of day,
and when she felt most alive
As others were headed home
from work or school, no longer
having to feign interest in whatever
boring things caused them to traipse
through their days,
She was just starting to rouse, feeling
her blood course, her breath quicken

Like an animal let loose, she felt
herself strain against the sane
She knew she should stay in the cave
until full darkness fell
But the melting day enflamed her so
Made her want to filet something,
just cut it into pieces
There's comfort in a blade's keenness
She would exchange light for sharp soon.




4 comments:

  1. I like the dark....and this is dark....great writing....

    soulfully I stare at nothing

    ReplyDelete
  2. Intriguing. When is the night's samhain? Sunset to sunrise? The last line almost demands a sequel!

    [http://trsbooks.co.uk/2014/12/wordle-190/]

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Samhain - loosely, the nights of the dead...in and around Halloween...celebrated by Celts and numerous places around the world...(I just really like the sound of the word)

      Delete

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