Past Midnight

Five soft veil lights of
ruined stones and faces.

Past midnight smoking in my bedroom.
Thinking of five women
beyond a hundred miles.

These names could be the same.
Faces each with somebody else.

Some get it right sooner than others
and the rest are left to look on.

Taking specimens of longings
to hold in future wakings.

all of walking nights alone.

all of

thinking

what’s the thing that failed you all?