Just Before Dawn

Just before dawn in the gray lamp
of the final pulse of moonlight

creosote bush
twisted mesquite

and something else

some things
brimless heads of somethings buried

round and gentle as lumps in the old mattress
ruthless as the broken springs that stab

through flophouse-blue stripes
in the old mattress cover

will if I turn my waking eyes from their terrible comfort
disappear into the harrowing new light

Richard Fenton Sederstrom was raised and lives in the Sonoran Desert of Arizona and the North Woods of Minnesota. Sederstrom is the author of seven books of poetry, his newest book, Icarus Rising, Misadventures in Ascension, published by Jackpine Writers' Bloc, was released last winter. Read other articles by Richard Fenton.