That long thin black of neck
dark swan
in this shadowed lake of cement
brick
blacktop.
Upward shoot, the slender curve
of your lonely hooded eye, flowerbud
unwinking in the unthinking still of city night.
Witness to a hundred-hundred crimes,
deaf and mute
pale spotlight shed more nightlight
than prison-yard beacon to
moneymen
drugpockets
bloodletters.
Silent, time and trial curve your
goose-neck, head hung, bowed beneath
the unfelt guilt
as the blazing bulb begins
to fade
into the tarry dark just before the
first fingers of dawn
sputtering like the guttering
flame of a candle
swallowed by the soft sweet sin
of the darkened
pool of pitch.
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