Night Shifts

NIGHT SHIFTS

Aimlessly walking through
the quiet town, an echo
painlessly affirms belonging.

Night falls;
the day disintegrates –
all reference fails.

I cannot wrap this world
in meaning. Slowly it burns
out the old images, the worn

words, the soiled. This is
the turning point; the nights
calm trodden underfoot.

Hold out your hands;
capture a fragment
of the neon-splintered

sky. A window brightly
shouts its wares.
Stares

into darkness
and reveals
its own banality.

Malcolm Evison 

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