it is the night of refusal

it is the night of refusal
dimmed and lost
to the foothills of yesterday
weary and strapped on
like an imprint
testifying to winter dark
as irrevocable

stained stamped and bitten
winter night is relentless
I signal all I will miss
not with a pope's white smoke
but with temporal ignition
rapidly turning days
into grey ashes





Poetry by Bob
Read 608 times
Written on 2017-01-06 at 19:47

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