Clear Night

5-inch.
.45 caliber.
Pistol

washed with salt and rubbing alcohol,
pristine.

night, cleansed with rain;

immaculate defilement, the world’s disquieting harmony.

The veins of charcoal streets
were baptized in green seawater,

misty fragrance of the flower below-
now effervescing earth’s holy grounds,
to whisper verse of penance
for each street-lit cul-de-sac’s
moral sin.
–
Just with its power of presence
and
revival of manufactured stink;
a clean revolver was a dirty street reincarnated.

Giving audibility to the quieted minuet,

pure and somber ghost hymns,
sweet melancholy of the Undead A capella:
Clear Night begged
the stranger moon to silently witness,
merciless doom.

A deft power in your gauche hands, hedonistic fluid for your soul of somber misgivings.
can you kill tonight?

Moonlight welcomes the exigent guest with the brunt of your collapsed foundation of faith.
When explosion replaces stoicism, what becomes of the night’s trusted innocence?

The wide and festering miasma of your stagnant life acquiesces to terror with a low moan,

giving birth to a damned child;
fiery, white-hot insects corroding your insides.
will you kill tonight?

God.
flooded every niche with loud vibrations;
God.
is the spawn
of a precise, serrated edge.

He echoes in the hollow barrel you never want to be looking down, the clear night you never want to be walking in.

Clear Night begged the
stranger moon to silently witness,
merciless doom.
Each groove of changing contours
cut a deal with
enigmatic intelligence:
the unforgiving truth gave life to only these.