Brutal Graces

Winter sun seems set
on blinding you
a little earlier today –
no way to stop the slow
revolving angle

of the global axis’ sway
away from that sweet
darkest solstice day
eight days ago – when
night was emperor.

A brutal glare too eagerly
cuts air: blares squarely
through the window glass –
zaps, slips between
the semi-shielding wooden

slats and you have just
as little power to survive it
as you’d have in space –
which come to think of it,
you are already in.

Not the first or last time
you will have to face
what brutal graces bring.
Inexplicability: synonymous
with everything.

.