The face of daylight has been removed.
Stars go on forever
about their lives.
Thank heaven,
the light is off in day’s house
and everything can be itself.
The boar fears hunger.
The crab shelters herself with armor,
and we remove our clothes
and lie down afraid
of our own true colors.
At last,
emptiness admits it wants to steal your breath
but didn’t I know it all along,
hearing those stars chatting
with their brothers, the stones,
and telling the truth.
Such honest dreamers we are
at night,
such honest tongues we wag,
but what liars in the morning
with our faces back on,
even the sky,
and we are liars at breakfast
and crossing ourselves
and our fingers
behind our backs
at five o’clock
and after dinner
when the dark puts her first card
down on the table.