Patricia Murphy

STILL

There are many stills into the night.

They are varied by sight.

Not many are common.

But some are clowned upon.

Not all.

Stills can be seen.

And not heard.

Like a nerd.

They are absurd.

To the touch.

But as such.

They are known.

Just look at a typewriter.

You'll see the upper and lower case.

Just like lace.

NIGHT

Night comes and goes.

It never lasts.

Like a glass.

You wash it once.

And it's clean as a whistle.

Like a thistle.

Night is a blast.

Like a cast of characters.

It remains stable.

Like an able person.

Night is to be preserved.

As a curve.

It never falters.

Or teeters.

It remains steadfast.

As a mask.

Forever past.

But a dash.

Like a cat.

Taking a nap.