The Truth of the Matter

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.