Poetry Archives Bio

Amber

September 29, 2003

walked
  in crisp, quiet
   dry darkness
 with the trees
 hugging the air
  my path unlit

remembered
   the matches
   in my wallet
 three or four
  in a crumpled
   matchbook

lit
   them
   one by one
 extinguished in flight
  by my momentum
   not one keeping me
   company
until I have reached
  the hysterical yellow light
  of the municipal streets