Late

Late


Night's metallic deep
tastes like coin
between my teeth.

Steel cold beneath
drags day's bones
down to Davy Jones.

I forgot the combination;
click back and forth
like numbers on a clock.

Ex marks the spot,
but won't unlock the dark.
Lights flicker from the dock;

dits and dahs in code
say take off a load,
hit the hay, go to sleep

or to Hell's gate.
Sink, burn or keep
me as a prize,

because it's late.
Or just too early to rise.


willow, 2009





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