matin

matin

sea-grasses

caught
in the rip
you surface
from in sleep
caught in
the long sea
grasses that
twined your
twisted ankle
breaking them
in waking
caught in
the traffic of
nightmare
you waved
aside like
cloth in
waking
find yourself
on that avenue
of the empty
hours ticked
off with the
trickle in
and trickle out
of starlight
that long
avenue of
no commerce
no trade but
winds leaves
tittering like
stars
you smell
that moment
that shall swing
the earth up
under you
the moment
the night is
done for

that moment
coming again
again till its
crescendo
the
moment
shall come
when the night
is done for
light from
here on in.

3 november 2013

Copyright ©2013 Peter Le Baige.  All Rights Reserved

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