So circular evening arrives again Sending down her silver lies at midnight Into the sleeping mind of woman,- A goddess knotted on her own fecundity, 5 A fullness and dirtiness in which all fantasies root. My blunt foot has numbed in its soleless boot. And yet, there is no anchor for us in this evening, No hold, no place to contain us, To comfort us; no chink in which we may 10 Fail and be forgotten. No hole for our seeding. We are here in the evening alone together, Here in the bleak nothing that opens us. I look up, up, to where the black stops. The stars are wise of their taut untruths 15 And wink when we do stare at them, Staring like a mother at her liar child Who winks and grimaces and starts away To play and pleasure in the darkest wood.
From the collection "The Soft Assault"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.