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Michael Stephens
A Hole in the Sky
There's a black hole in the sky tonight,
so sheild your eyes, Rosa, look away
to the skyline where the lawless moon has fallen
or to the perfect city burning down below.
A hole in the sky, no larger than your fist.
But look away, my love, come here
and tell me how this thing exists.
Shall we walk tonight down by the old canal
where the air is thick and spectral faces
shimmer just beneath the water? A haunted place,
I sometimes slept there as a boy
and dreamed odd dreams. I was brave then:
bravery closed my eyes and ears.
I slept on stones and dreamed of ancient times,
of gods who crawled through dust
in search of graves in which to hide,
and sightless creatures waiting to be born.
I saw myself among them, my eyes, blind and glaring,
stared back at me,
my mouth a random circle
screaming.
But now, you see, I'm not a dreamer.
I see things clearly: a hole in the sky
growing larger; and eyes that watch
from behind the rocks, forever burning.
We speak tonight of ghosts and gods
while above us the blackness breaks, the sky untangles.
The emptiness surrounds us.
Two seekers bent beneath this strangeness.
We should go now
before we disappear.
