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S. R. Compton
Summons
It must be a foggy night.
The dark sky is filled
with the wavy lines of clouds,
the full moon bathed
in their penumbra;
and on the ground,
a lone figure stands
staring at that full moon,
a figure almost lost
in the darkness,
the moon's brightness calling
through the abyssal
silence.
Giddily
One day, I walked off the map.
Houses in the distance, a road,
brown and empty acres.
I was on the moon,
jumping up and down,
giddily, in terror.
Finally I began walking.
Noir
An empty room, moonlight
filtering through an open window.
The body has already been removed.
A detective dusts for fingerprints.
Sirens in the distance,
neon lights blinking, blinking.
A breeze stirs the curtain.
On the street, that is all
they notice, the breeze,
and the lights, and the honking
of taxis, and still later,
the first drops of rain.
Illumination
Daily I see people
reading tomes with long,
page-filling paragraphs,
no breaks, or few,
for the poor reader,
as one imagines,
but on the contrary,
the reader may be filled
with joy, the joy of a deep,
warm bath, the joy
of a long climb
to new horizons,
the joy of a line of lights
in the darkness,
ominous yet renewing,
the joy
of one more thought
before sleep.
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