Like a Blade

There were parts of the city that were pure blocks of darkness,

where light would slip in like a blade to nick it, carve it open ;

a thin stiletto, then a spill of white ; the diagonal gash

of a shadow, shearing ; the jagged angle sliding over itself

to close ; the flick-knife of a watchman's torch, the long gasp

of headlights from nowhere, their yawning light - then

just as quickly

their fading away ;

closed over, swallowed

by the oiled, engraining, leaden dark

Robin Robertson

excerpt from

The Long Take

2018

                      https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35659255-the-long-take