Permanent Midnight

There are times when
the moon; tame and slight
lingers just a little longer,
and immediately, I await
a permanent midnight.

Instead of the sky twirling
into itself with shades
of purple and red

--that honey tint
on a velvet sheet--
and the clouds look

as if a child has been
traipsing through the snow
I long for a better darkness,
one that I have a name for
but can't really remember
There is ruthlessness to
the emergence of dawn;
an arrogance of piety--

forcing light on us the way it does.
A kinder sun would wait.
It would let the dying,

incorporate itself into the unyielding
as seamlessly as possible
and burn out without trace.