Saturday, April 8, 2017

A small cove

Some nights I lie in the dark
listening to silence
eyes wide open 
the silver moon dripping
behind the window

The mind on low fire
the body warm
under the covers
the tick-tack of time
barely audible

I feel free, as if the faint penumbra
was an empty capsule
full of tenderness
and think of
the pages I’ve read
in the book of life today
when the sun was up

I dream then, and find myself
saying the names of mysterious
birds flying out of cages
in a strange regular order
like soldiers out of a truck
dying for a cigarette but holding a gun

I wake up with relief
daylight only minutes away.

by Francesca Castaño

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