Neon Psalm
A dirge for the sleepless
Night wails through neon arteries,
wind-torn and bone-lit, spitting
black syllables into gutters where
rats gnaw the syllables clean.
I walk the wet spine
of avenues slick with
sorrow, glass-eyed ghosts
curling smoke from teeth.
The city is stitched shut,
seamed in sirens, coughing
red vowels through alley-mouths,
pavement humming its tired psalm.
Once, I dreamed in color,
before love fell from rooftops,
before her hands bruised
my name into my throat.
Now, I feed the dark,
drop coins in its palms,
let it whisper, let
it weave me a shroud.
Under sodium flickers, I
unravel my shadow, follow
its thread through glass,
through steel, through nothing.
Somewhere, a child wails —
or is it wind, or
the hollow in me
singing itself to sleep?
© Ani Eldritch, 2025.
Thanks to Chrysa Stergiou and her team at Catharsis Chronicles for hosting my work.