Evelyn Hew Poet Concrete

Beneath the Canvas of Night

.
            *         .
                 .        *
        *          .             *
   .            I lie still
                  under an ocean
        of       ink—each breath
   a whisper               rising
             into a velvet hush.
      My eyes          sail
          on silver threads
   stitched     across
       this dark tapestry.

            stars murmur
     their stories              slow,
         unfurling like soft
   lanterns in      the black.

              I vanish
        into                 wonder,

             beneath
         the
    canvas
         of
            night.

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