Night Dances

The trees are dancing
tonight. They shed red
and yellow leaves to be
woven by birds into crowns
for the outcasts, come morning.

I watch him sleep,
rage finally drained
from his face and
dragged off like foul
meat by mongrel ghost-dogs
to their secret hideaways.

Once, this man held
my arm when I stumbled.
Once this man sang a song
to the stars to lift
the hem of my sadness.

My footsteps come slower now.
Loneliness cuts a wider
swathe through the darkness.
I have lost my way in the
maze of signs, all claiming
to mark the road home.