In Morning Darkness

Behind a barred window

the lamp in a cage

Mistakes made dewey

In honey darkness

You don't acknowledge

the eagle who has landed

on your blind forearm

as you reconcile with safety

You must trust it

like a morning darkness

to be gentle upon you

and not to rip the wet eyes

from your soft head

Inmate

The undertow

of dark internal chapels

A clear pond ringing -

winter's sedative

A misplaced bird

who imitates fire

Wrecks our proud

desolation

In the eerie

we start again

Blue Roomate

The moon is my enemy

I wipe my mouth with it

I hide behind a bush

Faster and faster

Like a sleeping city

It barely lifts itself

A warehouse, a ship

that is never empty

the poet forever unpacking

POETRY

Brian Foley is the author of the chapbook, The Tornado is not a Surrealist (Greying Ghost Press). His work has appeared or is forthcoming LIT, Anti, Caketrain, MiPoesias, Sleeping Fish, BlazeVox, Gander Press Review and elsewhere. He is the editor of the online literary journal SIR! (http://sir-magazine.org).