Out In The Blue

V.

Blue light
drifts as shafts from the ceiling to below,
in purplish hues more mute lilac than mitish
bruises i can't remember feeling.
It would be nicest on this day and any other,
soft hands curl silent around venetian blinds
to tap out a rhythm between the dust that
sticks to them, to tap me between sleep.

shuttle passes;

Fire Light
i never thought such gentle hands
could attach themselves to such a monster and
form their own two from tens. How bright-
agonizing its amber hues rained down
upon asphalt-flecked checked tiles but i--
you know i could never keep my eyes closed. Large enough palms to crush a cattle skull...
brush as light a tickle from
underneath the chin and lull
just as you did the same,
to the sleep i was once lost of.