TWILIGHT’S LAMENT

Like the juice of a blood orange

The sun drips off the horizon

Streaking the sky between striations

Of blue, it is melting into sunset

 

Twilight swishes herself onstage

as soon as it seems decent to put

in an appearance – with her layers

of indigo, mauve and intimations

of lavender, lilac and royal

 

She hates to seem overly eager

But considering how brief her

stint is – once she’s on, she wants

every ounce of time due her,

it’s true

 

Before evening arrives,

towing all those bloody but

magnificent constellations

Spread like Swarovski crystals

on actual velvet – not velveteen –

Interspersed with glowing planets

– aligned and not – but impressive

nonetheless

 

And God forbid

It should be one of Luna’s showy

nights … well, twilight, dusk – call

her whatever romantic name you will

It doesn’t matter how wonderful

her palette may be, it will

never be quite memorable enough.

 

 

 

 

 

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