The night is hystericine, the stars
a prickle of porcupines, sharp
light like tiny quills, dotting
the black crested landscape.
I have become sleep.
Day has travelled
far from me,
night.
YOU ARE READING
The Anatomy of Fortune
PoetryMy collection of poetry for the 2013 Atty Awards. Made it to the "Showcase" awards of top 50 collections.
