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April 17, 2021

Morgenstrasse was published in the Interpreter’s House a few years ago:


If this light were to stagger on any further,
the night would be shrugged back
into morning and the next day would run
into the next. It is later
than we think.

Above the cycle path,
the sky is purpling between the branches
of the trees. We can light candles
and dim the whole sky with the flare of a match,
rest candles on the window-ledge and prepare food.
There is bread. Cheese. I can run
to the fridge and fetch wine.
You can polish up the glasses. This
is such splendid food.

Why can we not always look like this,
candle-light making crescents
of our faces? Or when the shadows
stress the falling of the light,
is this as simple as we can get?

But it is night we are moving into, deliberately
taking all of this along with us.
Look, the moon is a perfect circle
in the darkening heights of the sky.
Look, the stars are waiting.

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