(after "When the Moon Comes Up" by Lorca)



When the sun goes down

eyes fall into the valley of

madly ticking clocks.

A small girl drowns in a

cavern of choking salt.

A young boy is lost

in an eyedropper full of

hurricanes and damp sickly leaves.

When the sun goes down

shadows run down the walls

like melted snow

on a turtle's back.

Breath whooshes in and out,

not with air,

but with redness.

Lungs swell,

fill up with false pride,

then exhale hurt,

adding crimson

to the already red atmosphere

slashed with green knives.

When the sun goes down

the world is full

of pine-tree prickles,

and floating blue

eye patches

that blind the soul.

Eye-patches for

the dusk pirates.

When the sun goes down

figures,

ragged and grim,

crouch in waiting

for the dawn.

The dawn will have

a flying cape,

and glossy breath,

and a copper embrace.

When the sun goes down

The world is lost in

a hot blizzard

of poison.