Chrysos Dactylos Aurora

This morning the sun stuck her long fingers with the gold-tipped nails
under the clouds and with a silent shout she heaved
them off to the west and with her metallic-nailed fist
she struck the windows of the downtown skyscrapers and made them
quiver, and all the shreds and tatters of incandescent fog
fled before the sun's bellowing face (perhaps they cried out
tekeli-li, tekeli-li, but if so I didn't hear them)
and as I stood at the bus stop she ran her sharp-edged nails down my cheek
and drew tears from my eyes.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside