Page 4 - Contrast1984v26

A KNITTED SUNRISE

The tangy citrus sunrise
creeps from yesterday's molasses night.
Like a kitten playing with yarn
of sunlight, the day tangles itself
in a web of morning,
trapping victims in its path.

I shut out the bright light's path yarn.
but the cat clawed sunrise
rips my eyes open and morning
slaps my face from night.
Fog-like, the day lowers itself

on the world with its matted morning

I stretch and pull clumps of yarn
from my face, clear a path
to the window to see the sun melt itself
into the clouds of twisted sunrise.
Where is the shroud of safe night
that hid me from the suit of morning?

Why do you return to me, morning?
You knit me awake in loops of fired yarn
but my true lover is the night!
Dawn returns like a fool to the path
leading nowhere. No sunrise
will find my heart by itself.

The sun's tangled strings of reds itself

can never purr or nuzzle affection for morning
from me, yet birds swim through trees for sunrises,
flowers unroll their petals like balls of yarn
unravelling from their tight, ordered paths.
All done in the absence of night.

But I am not a bird or flower beca night,
hugging darkness within itself use

hides me, and there I find
away from the scorch'emsy of th path .
In darkness, Iecocoon myself new mOrn1ng.

from the onset of sunrise s. in the warmth of yarn

In the darkness of night th .

or evening, but a well-f~t .ere 1S no morning

that, 1.tsel f , leads to it1 t1no yar n pat h
b

s own sunrise.

Sandna C~on