shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

April Salzano

Page 1 | 2

Darkness is

past the black, beyond the space where shadows
play tricks that require a fragment of light.
The absence of anything definable, further
than deep. The coldest waters, from which
only the strongest emerge, however shaken,
changed. A grave dug early, a love forever lost,
severed. Images that haunt, stillbirths
frozen, stuck behind eyes, photogenes
so bright the contrast consumes all viable
distractions. Not thoughts of revenge, but carrying
them forward to completion. Blood on hands
that do not care if they ever come clean. A place
in the heart from which there is no hope of retreat.