Darkness lies awake in its lair
At the turn of the street
Where the blocks of houses
In a manicured row,
A terrace so neat
You thought they were painted...
Where the blocks of houses
Dissipate in a thick black paint.
Darkness lies in ambush in its lair
Where a dozen street dogs
After a dog day afternoon
Huddle in a collective vigilant sleep
Near the rickety grocery shop
With its corrugated iron shutter.
Darkness lies waiting in its lair
For the lonely passerby
Who hums a casual tune
Dangles his arms
Eyes focused on a specific nothing
As he totters down the road
His fingers clutching
The wads of notes in his pocket.
Darkness sits up in its lair
A silver moonbeam as it flashes
Smarts and blinds its eyes
It gropes and groans
And runs to save its life
As the sun rises
Shrouding the world
In a bright muslin light.
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