Philip Metres
Night, Come Tenderly, Hold Us
soft in your jaws, across
your bed of wide molars.
keep your canines
at bay. night, come
tenderly, as we prepare
in pale evening, unable
to stay. restive fugitives
of day, we shelter
in swelter, in shade. trees
don’t lie. inked in, we—
lashed by sudden
branches scribbling blank
on our cheeks—cross creeks
under the cold cover
toward our arcing star north.
night, we’re nowhere
close and almost there.
nearing & centuries.
so we can rise,
reach the shore,
night, come tenderly.