In Vigiliis Noctis

A small earthen sigh

Takes on the dusk

And while I slip into rest

My eyes are open.

Hours past in honey

Mixes into morning tea.

The night screams itself awake--

My mind is open.

In pekid skin and parched lips

Bones are made of cloth

And flesh embalmed in fatigue.

My eyes stay open.

Author's Note

looking for compositional critiques

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I liked how you defined the words. "Vigiliis Noctis". The description allowed the reader to see and feel the thoughts of the words. Simple statements led to good ending. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote