night shifts

The night shifts,
contorting, twisting shadows
vulgar limbs exposing aches,
desires, wants and greeds;  

The night winced
burning to the touch
retreating into deeper shades
of monotone and monodrone;

The night bleeds
shapes into shudders, shivers
quivering like water not quite ice
a lowering of pendulums;

The night stalks
steals across the stepping stones
on steps that don’t leave footprints
on words we’ve yet to speak,

The night concedes
don’t give it all away too soon.

© Emma Calder


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