Fading Youth

Two moons steam
over the city:

the end of a horse's

snout.

It is one of those nights
that begs you

to imagine the world

beneath the cobblestone.

The silhouette
of bricks and metal,

an occasional branch

from the surrounding forest

Beckons eyes skyward.
And somewhere in the middle

Mid-ground, stage left,
a child wrapped like a mummy,

rapt in the permafrost,

                      eyes like daggers.