Day cracks and flakes off
until trampled so completely
by insults and slights
it blends in with the dust, the dirt,
and the cinders of last years’ leaves.
Night seems more a black mirror
where pain sparks what is mistaken
as stars, as guidance, as the voice of God
emanating from a burning desire
to be one and whole.
And twilight remains that place
where the horses come
over to the fence rail
in hopes I brought apples to share.
Kenneth P. Gurney lives in Albuquerque, NM, USA with his beloved Dianne.
He edits the anthology Adobe Walls which contains the poetry of New Mexico.
His latest book is This is not Black & White. To learn more visit