Gris-Gris, an online journal of literature, culture & the arts

Night Drive

by Aileen Bassis

Night was a soft
restless beast pressed
against
us everywhere
in the panting dark,
lifting the dangling
moon, a bitten
peach pocked
with shadows above the night
workers in hard hats walking back
and forth and back under tall
brilliant lights and machines beating
beside a police car with warning
lights rotating. The roadway
twisted by draped signs and detours
as we drove round the traffic
circle.

Later,
I tried to sleep,
tried to push away the
the lights’ harsh spin,
the circling drive home, and thoughts
trafficking in stops and starts,
a screen stuttering with a
stuck replay key;
unable to turn
off onto a blind eyed welcome
sweeping dark down night’s
black roundabout.