Stiletto

Why does each evening up here
always, in summer, seem to be
The way — as it does, with the light knifing low from right to left —
It will be on the next to last one?

The next-to-last one for me, I mean.
There is no music involved
so it must be the light, and its bright blade.
The last one, of course, will be dark.
And the knife will be dark too.

Charles Wright

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