Snuffing the Night Candles

People talking about the phases of the silvery moon,

the Peter Pan brightness beckoning in the stars—

I haven’t seen a distant sun in months,

and the fairy tales have shimmered away.

No celestial pin pricks in the darkened cyclorama,

no blazes from back in a time before my tiny self

tried to sparkle into existence. I live in

a perfect night, bundled beneath the

suffocation of cloudy particles

and blankets, an empty visibility

stretching into periphery

and over the horizon.

People love a little star shine.

I don’t know what happened

to me. I’m anchor-chained on this stark lake

of arrogance and folly, a slow lapping without

the benevolence of illumination

and godsend.

A child wishes

on the first one she sees, lovers wish

on the fallen—I have no blessed light

to witness. Something cheerlessly cast out

has happened here. What America

coughs up to heaven

might be what happened. Of course

I want answers. I pray someone

has the heart

to wish for the future,

for me.


Author: Scott T. Hutchison

Scott T. Hutchison’s previous work has appeared in The Georgia Review and The Southern Review. Poems are forthcoming in Appalachian Heritage, Pine Mountain Sand & Gravel, Evening Street Review, Narrative Northeast, and Naugatuck River Review. A new book of poetry, Moonshine Narratives, is available from Main Street Rag Publishing.

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