Night

As usual
I find myself in
another,
my metaphor
mine own conceit, 
though ill bred
to fuck and fight
and forget
it is night,
my time, hers.
Her olive skin
and mine swarthy
–we do not
fit well together
under the moon,
that voyeur . . .
We thrash
with a fury
creatures run from
to turn to see.

(31 May 2013)

copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander