Poetry Archives Bio
September 29, 2003
10:18 AM
Amber

walked
  in crisp, quiet
   dry darkness
 with the trees
 hugging the air
  my path unlit

remembered
   the matches
   in my wallet
 three or four
  in a crumpled
   matchbook

lit
   them
   one by one
 extinguished in flight
  by my momentum
   not one keeping me
   company
until I have reached
  the hysterical yellow light
  of the municipal streets