Random Acts of Poetry

Supplicant

Tonight I hear the brutal music
of temples crumbling

behind the eyes.
This is the penalty

for thinking too jagged,
too acetic.

The train that hauls the twilight away
has finished the track.

Forever is a night
or a question, no?

Who can freeze
the tumbling stars,

or this idle banjo jangle,
echoing, echoing?

This reckless wind.
Whoever you are,

strike me a holy candle flame,
set this house to blazing.