Sun Down
When the tired sun folds
into its shadowed carapace
she wanders weary
cavernous halls
afraid to be
still. She rattles doors
tests windows, drifts
quietly away
from the nurses’ false-kind
eyes. She fears the pills
that pin her mind like
a fresh killed butterfly.
Her face is a shattered moon
in the night sky’s tangled viscera.
This poem first appeared in Passages North
into its shadowed carapace
she wanders weary
cavernous halls
afraid to be
still. She rattles doors
tests windows, drifts
quietly away
from the nurses’ false-kind
eyes. She fears the pills
that pin her mind like
a fresh killed butterfly.
Her face is a shattered moon
in the night sky’s tangled viscera.
This poem first appeared in Passages North