Fly straight
The night air, the sigh
at the end of the day
sepia stained
from the coffee
pot; charcoal ozone
holds a flint.
A dint of light
sinks lower
than the horizon
sending a final glissade
into the southern
sky. There are
moths tapping the
glass, orbiting
the lamp they
can’t reach,
no matter how many
times they fly
straight
for it.
First line taken
from Radio National – The Night Air, Sunday 6 January 2013.
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