The End of Night

The End of Night

I exist

to be conquered.

I, set against all other I’s,

am a stillborn poem

taken out of my mother’s womb.

Once I was immortal,

condemned to endless mornings,

empty of the knowledge

of manmade rituals.

Until out of my mouth that knows,

came the shape I was seeking.

Now I want to be

a waterfall of hummingbirds

covering our bodies.

Sometimes I read you

under another twilight.

In that half-light

your voice is different.

When you open your wings

you do not look like yourself

but I know that it’s you.