Night Poem by Zakaria Mohammed

Night is opening its poisonous flower
It seeps through the sky
like a tincture spilt into water

Night is unfurling its flower
for the solitary insomniacs
who stumble along from step to step

Night is enfolding the city
as the homeless come out
from their doorways and basements

Night is opening its poisonous flower
as dread rolls down the stairs
like a melon
The last one

Spare me
the last bullet in the revolver
so death can wait at the doorway

Spare me
the last gasp in the lungs
so breath can expire with hard labour

Spare me
the last copy of the key
so only the ghosts can get in