By Daniel Thompson


This quiet night

And the murdering ant

An army on the sidewalk moves

Carrying its starlit children’s game


This wax moon night the rabbit runs

His white tail bobbing as he weaves

Through backyards to the black, black trees

Suddenly a voice, cat or child, troubles the silence


O down these streets where sleeping dogmas lie

Lo, the flickering lamplight moth shadow boxes with the wind

As my friend, the talker, talks; widening the hole in his shoe

Till all his words arrive in time,

Bloodshot, in the gunsight of dawn


That quiet night the dark cargo of my heart

Pitched on the green wave and broke…


Copyright Homeless Grapevine , Issue #30, Cleveland, OH