On(ly) Words

The sun is setting.
Again.
As it does. I suppose.
I am here still.
I hear. Still.

A blackbird screeches
the day’s end.
A siren scars the dusk
like a scalpel.

Fire in the sky briefly,
then gray.
I gaze at the horizon,
searching for the space
between any two things.

The moon hangs:
a mirror masking
for a moment
the dark? 
or stealing the light?

I’m still here, hovering
at my horizon.
It’s the only way:
words wax and wane,
we rise and rest, yet
behind it all,
like a wall of eyes,

we see and speak it.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s