October


Woke up with a start, the night was cold
a dream had disturbed my peace;
a black hole in the ground loose soil from
its edges kept falling into its endlessness.

Got up looked out of the window into a street
of pale light, my breath fogged up the glass
I saw a distorted image of my youth;
“How old you are,” it mocked.

I pressed my head against the glass, tried
to make friend with my tormentor; and
behind stillness I heard the hum of
the long sea rippling on nirvana’s strand