Kimberly Blaeser

calling your ancient being
arousing that felt destiny

walking all past

folding the torn moments together
and shaking them out whole.

“Grandmother?”
“Its that way, child. The night things. Like how you learned to
walk. Nobody can teach you.”

Now a rumbling comes

heard over a heartbeat
beating more rapidly

with a fear of

greatness

felt in the bladder

breathed with flared nostrils
approaching like a flood

it rushes upon you

cleanses you with night desire
leaves you floating peacefully
into daylight.

“They get louder, I'm told.”

“The voices?”

“Ayah. Louder if you dont seem to hear. Louder still until you
hear or go deaf. Everybody has a choice you know. Some go night
deaf. Others learn to listen.”

Singing the songs

of midnight

going quiet, smiling shyly
when someone hears
listening inside

voices rounding each corner
of yourself

forming you

from daylight
remembering

those things

that come to you at night.

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