The Night Stretches Its Limbs
After Barbara Hamby
The night stretches its limbs and the stars jujitsu:
volatile nature of the phantasmagoric. How
Xeroxed images become blurred motion photography.
Zonked out on chamomile tea you’re carried into the arena.
Battered, trying not to think of the past, it comes back in mosaic--
dare to make sense, to resolve or cyclize.
Fuck it, you don’t want to sleep anyway, awaken quaking,
hysterical in the night’s grip. Eat gnocchi,
justify drinking from a jeroboam, padlock
love, cradle a hot water bottle and sleep in the dayroom.
No, resist the temptation to think of twilight as a torso:
premonitions sinking then rising, who will rescue
retrieve you? Watch how darkness stretches.