Poem -

Gloaming

Gloaming

Secure feelings wane in decreasing ultra violet. Hurry to

the car faster, remember more and more hatchet jobs from

endless Friday the 13th films. Journey forth and be glad of

urban living, as light pollution offers a lee in all its ugly,

leeching office.

It’s not enough to avoid the transition, a lycanthropic

response to stilled images of traffic jams and

crepuscular vista’s. The desires of day light

are incongruous with our gloaming doppelgangers. The

poles shift in the moral compass until….until….almost…

Sally forth in fading eventide, adorned in different shackles

from the sun to aubade freckles on an ebony face. Meet

lovers and other strange vices under cover of darkness

and chosen palliums.

They worked the gallows in the day time.

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