the day is eaten by a figure--
hooded, cowled and ominous...

a dark brocade of fluid cloth,
crawling, consuming,
moving before movement, steady and bold.

bringing forth dim alleys and black cats,
creatures of enigmatic morality following.

mouth agape, spitting out celestial maps that wash the sky,
fecunding the air with a chill and the smell of hillside bramble.
knowing no perimiter,
bounding rooftops
and laughing
at the futility
of street lighting.

hood and cowl labor steadfast, hasty and silent,
knowing whilst the work accomplished is thorough...
it is,
and always will be,
in an unfortunate state of evanesce.

NB @ 10:53 AM

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