The Night Between You
by Hillary Lyon
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at the grocery store you don't get what you need
lettuce milk meat bread
you don't get what you want
chips donuts cupcakes beer
instead you make mental list: two pale spiders
for two hands crawling over the ripe mounds
of produce the reflection of flourescents sliding
across a bald pate like headlights across a hood
in the dark rain the single bird in the rafters a feathered dart
thrown blind across the store scanning
beams of fine red webs snagging the bars
the one-dimensional black bars
obstructing the tiny paper windows of everything
you touch you want in
want to feel the cool iron of those bars
want to see the somnambulistic moon rise
through the night between you
and the slouching mountains of the outside world
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