Clif Mason
Originally published in The Evergreen Review Issue 118 in June, 2009.
Assassins walk a moonless path,
toward homes without light.
The dead dwell in waters so cold
even stars do not appear in them.
Assassins inhabit water
so black no light can escape it.
The dead walk toward homes
to which all power has been cut.
Assassins walk in starless dark,
so cold they cannot be touched.
The dead lie on a moonless path,
bringing grief to air more still
than their stilled hearts' chambers.
Assassins dwell in a dark more dark
than their brains' ruined palaces.
The dead walk, untouched, on live power lines.
Assassins walk, homeless, under frozen waters.
The dead lie, cold, on a path of golden stars.
