Illegal Light
It is always dawn
in the world somewhere, always absolute
night that arrives at the speed of light
from another exploded myth. A shower
of ash writes the book at once, and it is
published in blood to end all speculation about
the chance that no such thing as a man exists
and no such dream as a woman in love
with a lock of hair. If she holds it tight
to her breast or tries to tape it to a star,
we’d have no choice but to believe.