Night is coming

~ after René Magritte, “L’empire des lumières” (“Empire of Light”)

A single lamp
burns in the street

The sky’s prism unrolls
handfuls of cigarette papers

and lights turn on
in the upstairs windows

In the middle of the day you hear
night’s trapezoid approaching

You want a flannel gown cut
out of pearl iridescence

A bowl of chopped greens
laced with milky cashews

A drink recalling the taste
of ice and summer peaches

before night turns you into
something other than yourself

and the dark green border over-
takes the tree standing on one leg


In response to Via Negativa: Seer.

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