Night Moves
by Wendy Hammond

~ I

I take no prisoners
I wear all the faces of my shadows
And their clothes
To blend in
To the corners they stand in
Huddled, humbled old souls

The bones of dead muses
Buried in the basement
Like ghosts clanking poems
And if you listen close enough
To the undertones
They will enter you
Like the manic light of moon
Slices up the room
Into brilliant hiding places

~ II

Late at night
When the trains come through
When I think of you
Passing through me

My green
Green eyes
Upon your naval
Your poetry
I wonder if you know
I’m still listening
To the rumbling of the tracks
You left on me
And their vibration

And I’m still writing poems
Of explanation
Hope drops in the rain

Waiting for the train
To stop moving


In the dark, in the white
Of a black angels eyes
Two moons shine
And I am drawn into
A liquid light
Calmed by this night
This calling

I crawl under wing
Without questioning
Where we’re going
If we’re floating or falling
A slow weightless lift
Through a transient mist
Into morning

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