My world’s a night when vampires make good clowns
And Venus cloaks her womanhood to hide
Her neck. Her hourglass of moments groans
And night provides the comfort to be had.
My sky smiles, toothless, without decisions;
My life goes on, burnt out – it often thinks
Of smokestacks churning endless admissions
As slackened boxcars bump up the tracks like drunks.
My winters form their trees like bad habits;
The city looks out – night unflinching stares
Back on wings that help me bear the murder out.
My eyes are moons dancing from their orbits
And, turning upwind, my bill swipes the stars –
Dim pennies that shine like dimes full of doubt.