A cozy silence
closes,
knitting knuckles around a low room
of woods stone plaster tables
a tavern.
Shifting figures tense
as though aware a weir-
skulking gloom.
Fires gasp
and spatter night gem;
somewhere a rasp
of merriment leaves on the
last ferry, fast.
A greater quiet rides a gargantuan camel
of static nearer, patching
its quilt of many breathy epiphanies lost...
A lacuna—
that rain shadow
—falls like a porcelain mask,
cuts us into tangent vectors,
directions.
-
A cozy silence
closes worn fingers about a room.
Shifting figures tense
as though aware some skulking gloom.
Fires gasp
and toss dark shards about;
Somewhere the rasp
of merriment slinks away, chagrined.
A great quiet slips nearer;
It is the sound of many voices lost.
Of a sudden the silence falls like an axe
And cuts laughter free of its masters.
