Browns & Grays

So much balances
Upon the sharpness
Of a knife’s point
To cut out the night
A yielding of wills
Fractalized by light
A smattering of rain
Shot through with color
And disillusionment
Such old friends
Grasping at hands
And scattered clothing
On the kitchen floor
These wet shoes
Drying at midnight
Conjoined like twins
But not for long
Like the streetlamps
Flickering off
When the sun returns
To claim the city
As its bastard child
But morning reveals
The browns and grays
That were always this way
Before the canvas
And the acrylics
Laid it all to waste.

[Inspired by Afremov’s “Rain’s Rustle.”]