His Sad I’s

His Sad I’s
A Poem by Erundur Anwamehtar

Walking out the side door
at one a.m.
tonight he saw darkness,
a black flag with riippppless
tainted by moonlight.

Two years ago he felt this,
before he was

who he is.
Who is he?

A child, a man,
a man-child?

21 years ago he started
learning everything

he knows.
Darkness is absence of light,
it cannot touch
the surface.

Light switches turn on
artificial light, an imitation
of The Light Outside.

He is running

under the sun.
He is going nowhere.