Black Dog

there are moments

at the mirrors edge

or in fullness of flight

perhaps on the porch

in dusk's dim light

the dust from toil

soiled on hands

or in that moment

as I crash to land

to forget (myself)

glimpsing a fragment

and holding sight

as if in grasping

for the night that

ebbs and slips away

then the dog starts up

at the end of day

always