The afternoon is slipping away
Dragging the trees’ shadow handles
To the end of the wired street
Disappearing over the crest
Spreading and setting
Slowing to a glow
And afterwards, a hooded lamp
Pouring light to filter the rest
The clarity of a dark frame
Pulls out colour, tunnels
Through matter
At the other end, a proxy
A change of skin
A strange but familiar
Transformation
Awful, yet inevitable
after it!
ReplyDeletedon't let that bastard afternoon
ever get away