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Morning Star

by Dane Campbell

I am soldered
into the frozen,
smoldering grip
of insomnia.

With the burning hunger
of an ember,
I want
for slumber,
that wakeful photograph

I cannot enter.
Deadening, I watch
absolute black
pang at windows.
The rural sky

begins to drip.
Etched from unseen depths,
edged in cobalt,
drowned trees resurrect,
swarm the scene,

a hoard of silhouettes,
the bone-white moon’s
grim grin has gone
in the ghostly hours
before the dawn.

alone, unhidden
as the herd
of others moves

suddenly along,
morning star,
solitary tear,
bright silver wound,

brother to none,
cauterized to a scar,
soldered into the smoldering, frozen grip
of execution

always rising,
always the sun.


Posted on 05/06/2014
Copyright © 2024 Dane Campbell

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 05/06/14 at 12:35 PM


Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 05/08/14 at 03:08 PM

Elegant and vivid. I was writing about my sleepless nights just yesterday, but this is so much more. A pleasure to read. Loved it all, but especially that "bright silver wound."

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