I know it was dark
and sometimes it’s hard to hear
when the wind is trying to catch its breath:
whistling through the air of a sapphire dream show.
Something is bound to get lost with the children footing aluminum nighties,
with the women fighting Simms and his lawyers,
between bullets and arms in the air,
on the hull of the ships, beneath the chains,
in the bellies of those cleansed out of Yemen.
Someone is bound to go blur under the Birdseye.
The all-seeing, all-there, Star will leave at least one night without a moon.
This was the night He couldn’t find me:
under the screams of my familiar,
with my body laying there, silent.
Tonight the tree was lost for the forest,
standing amongst the things that have fallen.
Tonight the waves were lost for wake,
becoming just another silent crash amongst the immense.

He did not mean to.