Erin Dutka


I'm tired of sunlight,

of how it luminates the sky,

taking over the darkest spaces,

striking down soft shadows

and blinding careless eyes

with its translucent claws;

it grins arrogantly

from its strangling blue sea

where even the strongest swimming fish

fears to drown.

Remember moonlight, I want to say;

its silent silver rays reaching

harmlessly to the earth;

its humble light

changing tides and marking seasons.

But it only glares all the brighter,

or it hides itself behind the

shadow of my grandfather,

the darkness growing thin until

the light explodes outward,

blotting out everything

I didn't have time to ask him.