Tony Bush Poet Verse

Here Comes the Night

Here comes the night, wiping his bright brother from
the face of the earth;
bleeding like treacle through the concrete enclaves of
bleached stone suburbia.

Torture tents dispense no fear, for I know of release through
slicing and dicing;
a nick here, a tuck there, jets dark plasma, pouring 
the light out of me.

A different kind of tension sings a switchblade harmony in
the brain, buzzsaws hum
a dying crescendo, sinking into silent echoes and
a different kind of peace befalls.

Grimly smelling burned potatoes as I crunch
the gravel path;
I sigh resigned, no matter how much I bleed it
is never going to be enough.

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