Night Shift – hour 20

After dark, I stroll

Stretching boneless mountains roll

under deflated clouds and pallid stars

I teetered, whirled far

when a speeding car

whizzed by me, light trailing

the last blues of dusk fading

spirits whisper beside me

tickle blindingly

just a branch of spruce

then I trip on its roots

and fall, breaking the silence

onto a lumpy coffin, I heard violence

muffled screaming

a headstone partly blocking

eyes twisted, fascinating

astounded, half-rotted

the sight left me winded

deceived, instead

I rolled off the edging

of my ruffled bedding

the night become morning

but muddy shoes drying

by my blistered dirty feet.


– Sandra Johnson, 6/27/21


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