The Other Side of Light

Your haze – a night drive blur –

is unrefined.

I am consistently picking you

apart

in the dark hours.

The floor – its hardwood spine –

is warped

So it exclaims much louder

now

when you tap-dance

your way

along the weakened

bough.

You bend each way

you can –

each way you must –

to suvive

in the different shades

of dark

now present.