Night

Filmy curtains
made from the gossamer
of mosquito wings
swirl
like the hem
of a lady's nightgown.

Darkness,
but no sleep
tonight.

At least
the air is salt.
The night
too hot
too hot
but at least
not thirsty.

There is nothing
but nothing
like a night that is thirsty.

J'ai soif,
he whispered.
Toujours soif,
encore soif.
Marseille is salt
and heat
but not dry.

Sleep doesn't come easy
in the city
with a thousand
sins
and a single truth.

So I will remain
a servant of this night.
I will watch
the play of white
against a square of living dark
and wait
to fall...
if I fall
asleep.