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
hush,
don’t give it all away too soon.

© Emma Calder

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