Night's Shift
When my city unshuts below,
its crude, inured eyes: lewd its faux
regard for mere mortals that drift
amid cement and steel. Who flow
bereft; enslaved by night's shift.
Dissent its rude rebirth; in thrift,
withdrawn from grace of day's new dawn;
caffeine avers a spiritual lift.
Recede to homes' suburban lawns,
reticent lips, aside for yawns,
with ways to slog before they sleep;
paroled from drudge, trudging like pawns.
Climb ligneous cliffs: deeply steep,
onward, upward, on limbs that creep
to sterile slumber - their souls to keep -
until new toils throng them like sheep
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