Daybreak After Nightfall

When noble dawn arrives

After a lecher of a night—

A night that feels

Like the millionth coat of paint

On a wall that never existed—

It seems the weight of one more day

(For what is a day but a shade,

A kind of color that bleeds into the last and the next)

Might, in metastasis,

Topple the facade,

Peel the veneer

Which hides nothing.


It is then the Indian summer blooms out of blue,

Imitating another sunrise:

The red runs down a face,

Followed by the orange and the yellow,

And all at once

Every color in one white.


And in this sunrise

Tomorrow never comes.


There is only the razor of now,

Right now.