Just a child, owl-eyed,
touched by darkness.
Standing now in sober light,
dark-rimmed circles dilate, shut,
another rider on the wheel.
This life we hold in common,
nailed to nothing more than breath,
bends us, creatures of light,
as if we are shadows on a wall.
Night turns its screw.
Smell of coffee,
potatoes and onions on the grill,
night’s stale perfume,
light leaves its fluorescent kiss on everything.