Twilight (I)

Lowering with no heads ups,
A quadrille finale,
A thousand suns and a quadrant,
Quartz and ashes upon the world.
A compass to wait
Behaving how they expect me to
And the opposite, as always,
Predictable and posthumous,
The monologue honors me
As they stare at me, no tears at all
And the darkness tastes like wood
And it ignores the crowd
Like I should have done
And only darkness remains.