| DUSK Dusk, stroke too estranged to be day, too mild for moon. You allure my stainless body -- Luna's clouded mask, radio tower stars. Your filmy arms draped along the magnolia, catching light in its sleep. Dusk, I love to watch you glow, sunset crimson in your robes. In the distance Lexington mocks you with street lamp insomnia, and even the azaleas so brilliant in bloom, try, recklessly, to be you. Dusk, how gently you bridge the infirmity of sun to night's plush purity. How subtly you arrive, fade. I wonder why no god was named for you, and if there will appear a day when I think not of your burnished body spread apart before me, calling for my midnight to slip upon you. Contributor: Erin Elizabeth
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