Tuesday, June 3, 2008

the burden of streetlights

if it never gets dark
how can I find what
I left in the night?

somewhere back there is
a recollection of a brief
moment that never should
have happened at all

some things are best
left in our twenties but they become
unwanted souvenirs that

are found years later in
tangled drawers of miscellany that

nobody would take off
our hands


Rachel Westfall
June 3, 2008

2 comments:

Kyddryn said...

Street lamps are the bane of my existence - I have given thought to moving to the middle of Africa, just to escape them. I DO NOT like outdoor lights of any sort, save the ones nature made - they hurt my eyes and make it harder to see.

Lovely poem. Haunting.

Shade and Sweetwater,
K (a little cranky this morning)

RachelW said...

The worst are the ones that shine right in your window... I think they screw up our internal clocks. I'm not sure how streetlights got into the poem but they snuck in there somehow!