Night granite

Sometimes on the train when you’re going through countryside at night, it’s amazing how dark it is.


Night granite

You hear a splash

Then the spread of cold

Damp denim

Cold calves

The night draws in 

As your draw your coat

And the water draws up your leg

Drawing a line from puddle downroad


Climbing gaps, you mount

Slouch, hope that no one will encroach

On our warming, collar up

Thawing space


Turning you peer

Through glass bursting

With reflected strips

Cold cut pane

Looming through rubber seals

Twice shaped lozenges

Safe and sound

Rattle and bump

Peer harder 

Perhaps hand cupped

Searching for secrets in the night

I came for you and your whispered dark


I see nothing

But it is a nothing of substance

A nothing of matter

Held back by the chunter of speed and progress

Once past the straight line of station 

There is nothing but the dark

The dark of valleys and hills

Of nights with heavy hearts


The darkness does not look back at you

It simply removes light

Strips it and bends it back across the land

It is obsidian, hard as the Earth’s foundations


When we return to stamping streets

Searching for pools

From standing light cranes

Spaced along pavements

The runway lights of home

We watch our shadows

Against the rain-soaked reflection streets


The night is not a trail of dawn and dusk

But a black hewn stone of strength and silence

The cover of evening

The granite of night

Sloth out.


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