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