A Single Strand of Darkness

I am sad like eyes closed.
What touches my hands does not
belong there but slides away-
rain against the glass.

Don't we slip away with it?

I've loved like spiders
spinning webs of silver scar;
their world all feathered moths
and flies and sun. Is there

a single strand of darkness?

When I sleep like sinking fog
knowing stars are light imposters
a thousand years before tomorrow
burning for a dreamer's sight-

who is cruel enough to tell us?

1 comment:

RachelW said...

I have re-read this poem several times, and each time, I glean something else from it. It brings about a certain mood in me that I remember from my black-clothed melancholic years.