Twilight Falls and the Monsters Are Due
The unbidden lurks,
as anxiety mounts
over life’s frailty
—setting off a burst of barks
that fails to beat it back.
The seed is sewn,
the weight takes root.
Even my girl playing
“Chopsticks” as a lark,
can’t change the weather.
I don’t scream into the wind,
or whine, blaming the universe.
I take it in, absorb the blows,
mercy will come
by daybreak.
Limelight
Thank you for sitting with me
in the limelight
of a Charleston, West Virginia, hotel
that’s seen better days.
The white hot light is dimming
and we both know where this is going
but thanks for playing along,
you saying it’s going to be all right.
David Cranmer’s poems, short stories, articles, and essays have appeared in publications such as Live Nude Poems, Needle: A Magazine of Noir, The Five-Two: Crime Poetry Weekly, LitReactor, Macmillan’s Criminal Element, and Chicken Soup for the Soul. His debut chapbook, Dead Burying the Dead Under a Quaking Aspen, is now available. He’s a dedicated Whovian who enjoys jazz and backgammon. He can be found in scenic upstate New York where he lives with his wife and daughter.
Punk Noir Magazine 
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