Closing down the day, a layer of powder and a liquid moon,
plants edging the closed cafe, left to die.
I cannot stomach the brutality of nature.
.-.-.-.
In the gentle wind’s nudge, I find myself able to move.
What a misplaced sense of empathy--
I, too, am alone tonight
between the ease of the dark harbour's smell
and the last restaurants closing down.
.-.-.-.
The yacht's lights obliterate any memory of death.
A window: a tiny black hole.
.-.-.-.
In this city of failures
of murmured violence
in this city
pregnant with many other cities
pregnant with other cities…
With the eucalyptus, I smile at the arrival of rain.
About the Creator
Squeeze D' Avocado
Asterion, Jess, Avo, and all the other ghosts.
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