Night Poem

Night Poem

Stop reading if it isn’t late at night.

 

And if there is any light,

let it be the glow of a half burned candle.

 

You must be alone to understand

this tale of disappointment:

that the number of people in a room

can be too large and too quiet

and too drunk to understand your poetry,

even if it’s the only thing you’ve ever said

worth saying out loud

or remembering.

 

Morning will burst in other houses

and like the wine and the weed,

your words have gone up in smoke—

for a moment filled a hollow space,

stirred the air with transparent wings

then disappeared.

 

 

 

DeMaris Gaunt

3-18-13

 

2 thoughts on “Night Poem”

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