The Night Is Younger Than Me
The night is younger than me,
and there are so many flowers.
It is as if I had never seen dahlias
before, tulips, roses,
never been beside you,
never prayed at your gravesite.
Where are the crimson flowers,
never remembered in light?
I asked God not to kill off the night,
because it bore flowers for me,
like two birds,
shedding purple-blue feathers,
who, like me, still have a stake,
crying out, 'the world.'
Linda Benninghoff has published poetry in Mipoesias, Poets and Artists, Agenda, and The London Times Online. She lives with her parents and her dog Sheri. She has an MA in English from Stony Brook.