I turned on my side, shadows moved between the wardrobe
and the ceiling, and over in the corner near the door. I closed
my eyes. Main Street was in the pours, its shops streaming down
the car windows, neon flashes, on and off, our faces dim
as 30watt bulbs, on off, on off, the car a prison of rain drumming
bad temper into our ears, and shapes of people fleeing both sides
of the street, like we too should be getting away, moving somewhere.
I opened my eyes to see Jesus in the wallpaper and closed my eyes
as quickly not to see Him, behind my eyelids a legion of angels
descended in iodine-coloured light from where coal-black clouds
had opened Heaven onto the earth. Open again, the lights of a car
travelled across the room, and left it blacker; where, I wondered,
can cars go in the pitch black night?
No comments:
Post a Comment