There's
a black hole in the sky tonight,
so
shield your eyes, Rosa, look away
to
the skyline where the lawless moon has fallen
or
to the perfect city burning down below.
A
hole in the sky, no larger than your fist.
But
look away, my love, come here
and
tell me how this thing exists.
Shall
we walk tonight down by the old canal
where
the air is thick and spectral faces
shimmer
just beneath the water? A haunted place,
I
sometimes slept there as a boy
and
dreamed odd dreams. I was brave then:
bravery
closed my eyes and ears.
I
slept on stones and dreamed of ancient times,
of
gods who crawled through dust
in
search of graves in which to hide,
and
sightless creatures waiting to be born.
I
saw myself among them, my eyes, blind and glaring,
stared
back at me,
my
mouth a random circle
screaming.
But
now, you see, I'm not a dreamer.
I
see things clearly: a hole in the sky
growing
larger; and eyes that watch
from
behind the rocks, forever burning.
We
speak tonight of ghosts and gods
while
above us the blackness breaks, the sky untangles.
The
emptiness surrounds us.
Two
seekers bent beneath this strangeness.
We
should go now
before
we disappear
