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.