Night Gods

Creativity sleeps like a bear

taking siestas in the late afternoon.

The sun climbs from its hammock

as the night throws a blanket over the Earth.

Street lamp fireflies wink at the moon,

the stars painting pictures above

as if urging the unconscious to unravel itself.

Most times, it is a woman,

though presently,

the nighttime mural speaks of the inhuman You:

the subconscious dream hidden under the skull,

a cage sometimes too tightly shut.

How will the words make themselves out tonight?

Will they escape out through my ears,

echo into my mouth,

to be swallowed into my bloodstream?

Will they ride down into my hands,

where the muscles have grown cold?

The culprit is the Shadow Man

that envelops me in darkness;

Even if the cage were to open,

clean oxygen would not slide through.

The bear gulps it into his nostrils

as he sleeps at my side.

The wind tickles it across the window pane

as I appeal to the hinges of the cage bars,

lullaby so strong that I barter

for stronger lungs or better circulation.