Jar of Night
/ nightjar. The star-strung shine
within glass / the cryptic sight of
nocturne. Every orbit a transparent
shaking. Every glimpse and glance
in dream-camouflage. Moth-filled,
dusk-held, dawn plumed, milk
Chupacabra. The jarring, lightless
road trip; a daydream like roadkill.
An imagining from the glass-strewn,
We Whittle Silver
birches down to their sap, drink
them hollow & hungry. Metaphor
for nesting dolls without sisters
to fill their un-carved hearts. For
picturesque purple mountain ranges
empty of amethyst. For a hundred
thousand eyes, hollow & wooden &
omniscient, smoothed shut by the dark
carving knife of night.
There Is No Daylight
without today. No mouth without closure.
No serration without sharpening the snow.
The geometry of a cut, the angle of blood.
Hide-less animal, s(k)in-taken creature.
Hide, hid, had. This light a once was.
A blue-tongued oracle of hello, bloodline
reaching to the wise woman of goodbye.
Her teeth tapered to winter-blades,
framing words to end with.