The Darkening Horizon
Like a hand on my
shoulder, the warm
shimmer of late
summer sunlight falls
with red refraction
into the quiet bay.
I wonder tomorrow
what I will recall
of this moment.
Folds in the space
that time has made
crease my brain
as it devours each
dream of memory.
My elements become
the dust that
draws dark valleys
in my history where
plaques entangle all
in their forgetting.
I feel echoes of
these voracious gaps
in the emergent
constant recreation
that is this universe—
birthed from black
holes, then lost falling
into their consuming
event horizon.
A soft Gulf wind salts
the dark absence
I will become with
scents of shadows---
these waves that
name my improbability.
I wonder what hole
will have filled an
unremembered part
of me with darkness.
as walls collapse
at last into an embrace
of silent synapse.
I fall into the dark valley
of each invisible wave.
I cannot/do not resist,
but envelope myself
in plummets of stars
that drift in undulate
weakening shimmers—
their black knowledge
waved shoreward,
filling the emptiness
of my every footprint.
