You are using an outdated browser.
Please upgrade your browser
and improve your visit to our site.
Skip Navigation

Night Song

Black cricket, caught in one gear on the cusp,

nibbling at an edge of the firmament,

you are an afterthought of hunger & belief

at twilight, driving the stars ad nauseam.

So, you think you know loneliness, huh?

Are you hiding beneath a stone, little coward,

or clinging to a dead reed? Your song is the only

evidence you’re here, a loop of post-modern jive,

the keening of a lonely string across bridge & limbo.

Joy. Woe. A drop of awe craves the lowest note

in the tall grass. The night says, Don’t pity

the one tuned by obsession, this old begging.

Yusef Komunyakaa