Where the sun vanishes

I go for a walk.

Where everything is powdered with a cough of talcum,

the camera is diseased by smatterings.

Shadows meet in darkness as loyal as house-spiders

creeping from corners are distorted shapes.

Hands shake coldly in latent doorways. Turn away, spurn.

The milk eye of morning blinks a vision into fractals;

figures stone-sculpted get slashed in the sleet.

Faces emerge and erase.

Stubborn autonomy makes no contact.

The androgynous gloom is a bruise

'neath the blood-beat waltz of a paintbrush.

The night is dust, a pocket of marbles rolling.

Sequin eyes gleam, leave.

Daylight will return with rust around its edges.

Shaken is the snow globe: destination new.

Structure of perception rearranged.

Stalk walk.

You do not see me stalk.

I have the eyes of the dog.

I leave my prints.

The canvas reconfigured.