Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Black Kristel Night

You knock at my door, soundless,
and I know you,
Yes, I know you...

Dark flame in a white room
drawing heat from the night.
Words on a scrap of paper,
a few short lines
that pretend to tell
the tale of a person
lost on the streets.

Obsidian, sharpened
by terrors
at the hands of strangers,
family monsters,
betrayal of friends.
I know you --
one of those Burke could not save.

You knock at my door
and no one is there,
just a fiction on the front page
of everyday's news.

But behind the words...
terse words, of crimes committed,
sentences served,
paragraphs violated
in some dusty tome
no one actually reads...
behind the words
there are eyes,
a gleam in the darkness,
a shadow
to run
from the light.

Obsidian, reflecting
a pitch darker than night,
endless night,
even when the sun still shines.

Yes, I know you...
...Your reputation has preceded you.



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