What a shadow wants
Some landscape

of music,

where you fall

in the dark places

and silence.

Some wall where

they leap,

like strangers

amid a fire,

dancing.

To become, and

then recede — 

light will fail you.

Night will

become me. 

 

Lilith Everything

 

Each day

more beckon,

with copper necklaces,

prayers on bits

of green paper,

whispers that

I am hers.

And hers.

I turn away.

I carry my

bad marriage.

And I

yearn for sleep.

A Unicorn Retreats
For six months or more

dancing in the mask

you are

copper, purple —

all in all

rarely-sighted

yet always gnawing

at the fence.

Greening in the tide
In memory of Lawrence Carradini
I summoned you

on the midnight shore.

Piping plovers darted

among the rushing

waters, pebbles,

everything 

that would fall.

But, we stood,

holding this night

like a cathedral of dark.

Blue-green, growing colors —

waves in refrain,

let us sing

sing this night

into our breath,

into our veins.

Then we can retreat

to land, once whole.

Zira
Black dog

waits for no one.

The street light

pools,

purple,

lightning

that has failed.

Still,

she looks up,

all moon

and claws.

She walks

for someone

to find her,

she walks

for the end of night.

Meg Smith is a writer, journalist, dancer and event producer living in Lowell, Mass.
Her poems have appeared in The Cafe Review, Pudding, Poetry Bay, The Lost And Found anthology, Runcible Spoon, and many more.
Her recent poetry books, This Scarlet Dancing and Dear Deepest Ghost, are available on Amazon.

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