A Place of Discomfort

Small shadow

crimson wave and ink

were all mocking me in sleep

like pen unsheathed

protruding and foreign

in night's breath

like drawn blinds

like fixed tongue

like broken shards of heart

in fine dust, scraps of memory

Wishful is the setting sun

to see the rising moon

a figure, threat, authority

May the bitter taste lie softly

when the sweetness fails to show