Welcoming The Dark

Bedroom window sunset:

a biblical glow, yellow rays

like the fingers of God poking holes in the hills,

filling them with liquid gold.

I run for the camera. Over my shoulder yellows

metamorphose into rush-ahead pinks. No film.

In a drawer, earthbound fingers dredge through

underwear and jewels for a small black cartridge

to buss and spin in the camera

like a bluebottle trapped in a window.

Light dims my dash around the corner,

flings my fired feet over the wooden stile.

I feel for the camera,

then lift my head, defeated, in the dark,

meet the eyes of a muscled brown mare

telling me to be still and watch the horizon

self-destruct under a blood-mottled moon.

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