Sunset--the dying star had just gone pink
and thrown a fiery halo around clouds
purpled like bruises. Gray light like a shroud
edged our drunk eyes. The sun began to sink,
half-circle on the flat line of the day's
last breath, then sectioned to an arc it stood,
bright as a knife blade in a pool of blood.
The sky turned crimson in diminishing rays.
Suddenly the entire world went red--
my hands, your eyes, the bottle at our feet.
I could have done a murder in that light.
Then finally the sun vanished, and night
descended on us like a sheet of lead.
One breath, and then the darkness was complete.
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