Saturday, October 29, 2016

midnight octet

oxygen concentrator breathes in, breathes out;
orange security lights on wet pavement

gleam; cars sleep like glass beasts shining & heavy;
gray table lamp, framed photos, chrysanthemum

blooms: unseen waning crescent set hours back
but through blinds my reflection in the window:

white-streaked beard, hair’s cowlicks: this world is perfect—
there’s the wall clock now—is that what I’ll tell you

Jack Hayes
© 2016

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