dusk

Dark skin radiating, sweet and pungent
the voice of a mellow sax
alone among the first blue stars.

He moves to the somber sound;
a slow dance, a lumbering gait;
his long lashes catching moisture

of his own tears, mixing with the
sky's as mist rolls against the
stars and nebulae;

rolling, swaying
to the ancient rumble of thunder
in his chest,

running down powerful arms,
taste of bronze night,
mighty as thunder, crying.