Poetry \\ Auroral Night


It’s a falsehood
Of the mind
A broken gate
That doesn’t lock
A September
Without sun
A harvest moon
Drawn into dark

No sweet cherry
On the topping
Dried up pits
Are all we get
When we ask
The “proper” questions
Dutifully met

It’s a falsehood
Of the soul
To drink a
Full glass of compliance
A severed line
A stolen tale
The Great Belief
A hardened science

In hollowed hands
We carry the sun
Amidst the thorns
Sharp-edged and clear
Haunted echoes
Held in love
Auroral night
So bright, so near