GIVE ME THE NIGHT

because the day runs away

before it can be caught. 

The night shows itself unafraid

like the eldest child or the king 

of the castle standing his ground

with bloody-mindedness. 

Witness to the brutal and mean,

it makes no excuses, slightly crazed

and not a little extreme, 

it has the mind of Ezra Pound.

Enjoying its tricks and crimes,

it can go further, freely terrorising 

the street, rapping doors 

then running and hiding behind 

the wet hedge, or looking 

in windows and tapping the pane. 

Never taking the blame,

it pulls a face and ignores the risk, 

naked and fearless at the wolf-hour, 

a cover for weakness for sin,

its badness using soft shadows 

to enchant and mystify, corners 

to entice, streetlights to lead away, 

its long fingers

grabbing your small bare hands.