Soon It Will Be Night

Photograph via Flickr by Jokin BCN

Wherever the ball drops,
another mouth rises from the sea.
Sparrows flit in Autumn rain.

Somewhere the wars go on and on.
Again drums beat out their rage,
yellow leaves surrender and fall.

Soon it will be night
and all the cave mouths sparkling
with firelight, the cities alive with sirens

and grief. Hidden stars will refuse
their shining. Moon, black and soaked
in her mother’s arms, will sulk

in a corner of the sky.

Steve Klepetar’s work has appeared widely, in such journals as Glass, Stirring, Red River Review, Snakeskin, Black Market Lit and many others. Several of his poems have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. His most recent collections include Speaking to the Field Mice (Sweatshoppe Publications, 2013), My Son Writes a Report on the Warsaw Ghetto (Flutter Press, 2013) and Return of the Bride of Frankenstein (forthcoming from Kind of a Hurricane Press).

Steve Kleptar

Soon It Will Be Night