Poem of the Day

A City Lit with Fireflies

The waxed face of the priest intones.
Birds fly the rafters as the sun gives up
while night watchmen weep to their elbows
and the women tremble under dry sheets.
In the town square, bayonettes cut the moon
to ribbons of light. Darkness feathers
the streets to shadow. The priest stumbles home
from the candled room, the evening like wine
on his lips. The baker sings a song of night
shakes a cloud of sugar from his hip.
He sings some words, a prayer for love
and wanders his town alone.