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The Red Light
Every night the red light shines
through the dusty net
And the finger prints on the glass,
Cutting off the whining engines, and
The soccer sound,
Scaring the monsters under
My king size bed.
Like a Cyclopes’ eye
It keeps staring at me.
All the stars around it wink,
And sometimes smile,
Lighting up my thoughts
Which are hidden in the trenches
Like pearls in the ocean’s shells.
No, this red light doesn’t smile!
It is a miner, craves, and splits
The fragile thoughts,
Trying to get only the gold.
At the end
it will lose the lather lashes,
and liberate them to look
for their purification
and eternal oblivion.
