Night Flight

Eve’s fallen are stranded by the first light of daybreak. Midnight withering is a flight from life. Days of mirage. Desire this narcotic night is your fallen paradise. A lamb strays into the mouth of wolves. Now that March is dead, there are early summer stars across the black seas. You who was born on another shore, what is it that you know? In the moors of moonlight, I remembered the life we desired — and the life we survived — Daughter of flaming Carthage, searing light from the parish of sunrise is burning my irises. These are the benedictions of flight. I vanished into desire.