Hiding on Sunday

HIDING ON SUNDAY
by: Sonia Arora

night at its apex of taut freshness
its beauty toiling alongside fleeing villains who desert their crimes
translucent shadows and pulled drapes
stuffed blue-black grapes plumped for pillows, drawn blinds
windows shut with rusty nails of buried coffins
a star, ripe, it’ll drop off the snapped vine of the canvas of sky
night rescued me from inside its black leather cape

pure white fireworks freeze in hypnotic incantation
that venerable split second before they burst ecstatically
shooting stars are a gaze
lovingly into Creation’s eyes
constellations, divine graffiti