Shading the Dark
The whirr of blood sucking bats
tempers the evening with ebony air
I’ve wondered about you across
those white stones, dressed
in black, coat and boots. Your dark hair
stirred by a vortex of wind, your eyes piercing
my chest until I can hardly breathe. My hands
extended to capture the chill of your pale face.
I thought the season had turned its back on me
and I could hear the gulls cry as we strolled
through red-mottled relics. I thought you
were bigger than life, but now I realize
you were a peasant with nothing more than
good fortune, and the knowledge of mimicry.