The Warning

The end of night
just lies there
in wait for the dawn,

at the base of trees,
in pools at the bottom
of steep streets.

“Don’t fall for it!
It’s a trap!”
I want to yell

in warning
to the sun, as though
he could hear me,

as though this,
as though we,
were a bad movie,

and only that.
Because bad movies
are the only place

those things ever work.

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