Austere Lights

by Ali Znaidi

No moon tonight. Instead, only bits of

golden fleece adumbrated by mist.

The light faded away bit by bit

to the rhythm of the lunar eclipse—

something akin to distant lights of a plane

swallowed by a hungry sky’s mouth.

Thunder. Lightning. & a cigarette

between two frigid fingers—

I was beginning to wonder if

these lights would hold;

if I would hold.

I wonder if light tonight was

administered to fit into
the austerity measures.