Poetry

A sniper was around. 
I did not want to rush 
and kiss the jessamine. 
 
Last night, it was a 
retributory offer 
to put off the candle. 
 
I am here to stay 
for prudence, speaking 
the dialect of the nameless. 
 
I survive the fetishes 
of light. O unknown, I 
live in darkness. 
 
Moon was my solemn- 
pledge. I had always stayed 
in the house of truth.