a dim candle glow
the mind into
daydreams, circlings, shiftings that
wake the beasts and
the dawn against the rising
joyful bodies vibrating in
shining, in cruelty, in
black lips that have been dipped
in the Exxon oils,
in the toppling spindle legs of
deer we all
against the dark,
against the violence tipping into us and so
we groan with the trees, dying, thirsty for a morning without artificial light.
We all long for bird light.