Night

Can imagine
the black birds
unseen at the end of night.
Welcomed or not, Death hurts
the beauty of poverty
the arrested flight
of a people weathered proud
of a survival burried in
blood and height.

Hurts too,
the caress of flowered silk
armour to a wild eyed
black haired angel
in need of milk.

Welcomed or not, Morality
hollow as the language
of defeat.