These July nights are so dark, waiting for the moon. Sometimes, when he's forgotten to leave on the light, With home in sight, I rest a full measure or two and Wait in the upholstered womb for a lull in the cicadas' hum Uncertain of my nerve, my pizzicato slurs, slows The land extends leafy arms, Narrowing the path, strong-arming the sky Voices older than midsummer surge violent From fringes of fecund swamp, Recon my progress, my waning attempts at escape Now, no city lights violate the velvet indigo canopy As it settles and smothers Wet and close, like a drunk lover No sirens race to save, no moon intrudes As I am pursued by the grasp that lasts When i was six, to see the moon was an event; A handful of stars, a miracle I lived under an oranged midnight Punctured by sonic ejaculations: With the shade always at half mast, Ambulances, cruisers, racers In through the uncurtained window came Like incubi to feed on my unprotected dreamings That second story window which framed my untainted world Seems such a comfort now, The rippled glass and peeling paint a talisman Of an age when safety could be had from across the hall, Invoked by the incantation, "mommy!" I breathe deeply, leaving the safe metal greys And plunge gasping, dashing to the blue. I am a conspicuous child of day racing To bar the door against the Night, Close in the sanctuary where 60 watts will shield me from the unreal Key at the ready, my hand unsteadily crams groove to slot It sticks locked as Night slinks up behind me. He Tousles and teases Raising each hair in carnal caress I twist away, frantic Finally it gives and The triple click of security as I expel held breath convinces me, Momentarily, of Sanctuary I flutter at another narrow victory, Light up to soothe and smoothe away the traces of his dark embrace as Night recedes, Anonymous (8/21/02 edit)