Each lost eye sunrise is
A tomato left on the sill
A day too long
To wrinkle and cave in
Soft stomach like
Deflating until discovered by the flies.
In the morning
Covers come off in layers
Letting in searching fingers of cold
Then comes the choice:
To feel held and slapped
Back to bed
Tied in bands of black
Holding hands with the whore
Who is tawdry morning light.
Or
Run like an angry leopard
In to the water
Taking the waves of forgetting and remembering in plowing grace
The morning’s last dream and its scent of cinnamon
Clinging and dropping in to waking’s open maw
As a drowning clotting of the breath
It was some story your mind cooked up
From a conveyor belt of thought left on all night
Tearing off pieces of disgorged remembrance
The storm clouds moving at light speed
Flaring and snarling their lightning
Miles out in the Atlantic.
You were too far out to swim back
Not knowing what moved under you
And why the remorseless ocean
Would want to cover you
Not knowing why the boat would leave
Not knowing what rough thing brushed your calf
Not knowing why the cold burns
Not knowing why you can’t see
The end of your arm in night water
Feeling layers of settling salt on dry cheeks
Feeling the sinuses burn in currents
Feeling the rescue in night water’s black
In night water’s black
In night water’s black
Joshua Kight 12/11/09