Only Words

Only Words

The sun is setting.

Again.

As it does. I suppose.

I am here still.

I hear. Still.

A blackbird screeches

the day’s end.

A siren scars the dusk

like a scalpel.

Fire in the sky briefly,

then gray.

I gaze at the horizon,

searching for the space

between any two things.

The moon hangs:

a mirror masking

for a moment

the dark? 

or stealing the light?

I’m still here, hovering

at my horizon.

It’s the only way:

words wax and wane,

we rise and rest, yet

behind it all,

like a wall of eyes,

we see and speak it.