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SOMEWHERE AFTER MIDNIGHT by Quentin Smith
A fist of wind Slams through the trees, Knives and knives of moon Stab into cores of bark,
Leaves like slivers and fins Quivering and slashing Across the dark Unseen Plummeting
On the sky-streaked ribbon of black.
Sharp land strikes –
The ground rises unknown,
Thoughts climb the well Spiralling Down Deep into Night.
Published in WIND, 1974 Written 1972 |