The night is infinite
And the morning a vague hope
When the unforgiving darkness
Tightens the screws of regret
Like a clockwork spider
It spins a web of metal fibres
Around its victim’s neck
The knots of lonely seconds
Twist double within aching guts.
Disillusioned hearts are helpless against
The dead army when it strikes
An oragami crane took flight
on a warm wind in a silent room.
Sharp lines and crisp creases
ran up and down its patterned body
as it carried its cargo into the
dark open night.
Apples fall from sunlit trees
onto long grass that soothes and sighs
They lie sweet round and bruised
and rotting from within.
Burnt butterflies dutifully dance.
A heavy wasp lands and stings
the purple orange leather disguise
that protects and betrays.