Night is my time.
I roam, hungry and angry
like one of those animals
that only feed after dark.

In the darkness my spirit
hatches, and plays reckless
between two rowdy worlds.
I bloom like an evil rose.

I move in a way I can’t describe –
like a vision, like a nightmare,
until heaven breaks into my skull
and light pours from my eye sockets.

Soul becomes a wild creature,
something you don’t want to meet
and nothing holds it back
when the Moon races over the sky.

Beneath this savage moon
beautiful things never last very long.
We bolt them like starving wolves,
and then wonder where they’ve gone.

The night waits for me like a lover
to bathe me in her cool hush,
to wrap her arms around me
and fly me into her wild dreams.






Syd Weedon
8/25/2022