Poem

“Civil Twilight”

Click here to listen to Terri Witek read this poem.

… the limit at which … illumination is sufficient, under good weather conditions, for terrestrial objects to be clearly distinguished.
—U.S. Naval Observatory

Who arched the bridge to this island of flare-ups?
Which is the key to the hotel of dismay?
Nests blunt the junctions between river and ocean.
I suppose we have done with our mutual heat.

As horizons melt into more vivid disclaimers
or choose from a shoreline’s stubbed-out streets,
let go the gold ways you thought nothing then nothing.
Think nothing forever when you get to my name.

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