BENEATH THE TREES

in the black velvet of Soviet night

in the velvet of universal void

Anna Akhmatova

Night night

little one

let sleep

steal upon you.

Tonight

the greats adversary”

“has found his way

out of

the innermost box

in the days that follow the

hair, the claws, the

fangs will grow

names will be carved

into rock-hard granite, into

wood of bedpost

there will be

no ghostly afterimages

lingering in the mirror

what had been scattered

will be gathered

find its way into depths of dissolving forest

(where the darkness of

words

proves impossible).

Night night

little one

let sleep catch you in

this last, unhaunted moment

and should you fall

fall freely

the floor, the

ceiling

yielding

as if

they (or you)

were just light

in a camera

shadows,

images

as if they were

nothing but words, written on paper.

Excerpt From: Garside, Damian. “Zero Gravity.” Xlibris, 2014-02-10. iBooks.