Stay With Me
I find a friend leaning on the doorstep
of a wholesale whose comrades have long fled.
The living sky, clad in clouds of scant shape
shows off gemstones resting on a seabed.
The complexion of nighttide, her trench coat
flutters its hemming’s corner in the wind
in gesturing invitation to float
away from the other nocturnal fiends.
And so with friendly words and urgent smiles
agreeing that fear half-shared is half-gone
we trudge through the half-light on squeaking tiles
epaulettes flapping – a pair of bats flown.
We bond over sleeptalk and the terror
of what uncertain illusions walls are.