Colours shower down around the horizon.
They veil the stars
in a curtain of green and blue.
There is a kind of violence lurking among
the things we do not understand;
a cruel distance between what is known
and what is hidden from knowing.
This is the beauty that mesmerizes
and the agony of being
both alive and helpless
which for the most part is largely ignored.
I draw a deep breath and breathe
hot steam into the night
watching the frost melt outward
to form a glistening circle
on the car window.
Above us part of the sky is turning
crimson. 'This,' she says,
'is proof that God exists.'
She lays back on the cool steel
of the hood of the car and reaches
her hand out to the blood red cathedral of sky.
Later she sleeps as I sit awake.
I write words, ponder beauty.
On the other side of the window
the cold night is shining like mercury.
On the other side of the world
the sun is rising over the sand.
A body in a ditch plumes stench
into the morning air.
A jagged half of a minaret struggles toward heaven
as the city around it burns bright
like this northern sky.
Published in Out/Words #1 (view contents)