the survival rate of nighttimes

by dm gillis

darkness drew gravely on its last cigarette
watching dawn from a bridge
arriving without invitation—

what was the survival rate of nighttimes anyway?
grim
in a word
even a solstice night dies too soon

so
that was why the dark
already had holes in its shoes the
nightmares of children were already forgotten
the uppers and booze were gone and

darkness now
was only for sealed closets and
the manners of man

 

 

 

 

 

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