Even the most terrible truth’s
aren’t so terrible at 6 A.M.
Your eyes squint open
to the ghost of a little thumbnail moon
framed between two naked trees
outside your window
as a seam of tangerine light
is flaring out in the east
and your mind like the early sky
is a clean empty canvas,
untouched and untarnished
by the imminent eruption of memory.
Haunted Avenues 