The night lays down his head.

I have seen the night look into a mirror
and wonder out loud
if that full moon will ever be coming back.
Yeah, the night sky has been lonesome for a while.

You may think you have felt frail,
but listen to the clouds drip rain
from the mouth of that sky
and you will come to realize
his broken back has been arched for so long
over heads that don't bother to look up.

You may think that you have felt sorrow
like an arbutus losing her skin each year,
but the sky loses his fight each night
to be suffocated by the
grasping hands of the morning.

Let me tell you, that all I have ever wanted to do
is bundle that night sky up into my suitcase
so that he could finally stomach the frozen
fist of daylight.

I have seen the night lie down in a lake
to rest his heaviness
in the floating arms of algae

and he'll bow low
in the depths of that black hole
to settle his argument
with the sunken shadows of old stones.