Inhale this viscous, gentle solvent, night.
There can be no ragged, buoyant breath.
There can be no faith on which to float, only
lack of fluid darkness, turbulence, flow.
There will always be this moment when
the slightest hush might gel the air.
There will always be a kind of
static, jaundiced peace.
JDP rev. 97/08,12
Copyright John D Porter © 1997
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