Amber

The 2PM sunlight
feels like 6PM dusk

setting over his melancholy horizon.

He googles ‘beautiful things’ and is
surprised when her vibrant smile
is absent.

Premature twilight filters through glass and amber alcohol
and the shimmering gold
reflects dark silhouettes of him –

alone, drinking the prism of monochromatic ventriloquism
that will get him through the day.

It isn’t dark out
but it’s so so black

already.

Willie Watt
1.18.16

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