by Nick Gisburne
In summer, when the ravening begins,
I find a little clarity of thought.
Perhaps the Sun diminishes my sins,
Or penetrates the trauma I was taught.
The days are slow to settle into dusk.
Such treasure, time, is never quite enough.
The gentle scents of meadow grass and musk
Are smothered in the dark by stronger stuff.
My kind was never destined for the day.
Alone, I seek redemption, love, and light.
It’s not for God’s forgiveness that I prey
Upon the fallen children of the night.
In summer, filled with colour, hope, and heat,
When daylight kneels to darkness I must eat.
