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First Stars, Last Light

He knew the night would soon arrive:
The turquoise-honey glow, first stars
Above the freeways full of cars,
The downtown towers lit, alive

With golden bustle. And he knew
That wintertime would soon arrive:
Lamps on each afternoon by five,
Leaf-freeing gusts and sleet, blue

Cold sun, the Christmas music on
In elevators. And he knew
Death strikes–at Mom now. Then at you,
Him, everyone. So, every dawn

He prays for breath and life. When gone,
Who knows? He knows he’s still alive,
That death might happen during drive
Or dance, with Christmas music on.
Posted 02/13/21
This poem was first published in Terrain.org and then in Slow Clouds over Rush Hour (Rose Alley Press, 2021).
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