Just Before Dawn

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

creosote bush
twisted mesquite

and something else
something

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 is the writer of six books, including Eumaeus Tends, and Selenity Book Four. His new book Sorgmantel, follows a view of Lucretius, but employs time, the predicate of physics, into a search for what can be imagined out of the possible and impossible. It can be read, perhaps, as an elegy for generations whose existence humankind is threatening, including humankind. Sederstrom was raised and lives in the Sonoran Desert of Arizona and the North Woods of Minnesota. Read other articles by Richard Fenton.