Night Watch

When the blue hour conjures
the world belongs
to insects and the moon, to cooing
birds and the possum,
who is watching by the creek.

I am the only one awake,
and while some may savor
the silence, I fear
there is nothing else.
The world is full of wild things
in cages. They keep me
up at night, yet my troubled
mind does not assuage them.

I am haunted by a donkey
I saw in Mexico,
made to stand for hours
in front of a tequila kiosk.
He looked me in the eye
as I strolled by.
Maybe he is happy,
my husband reassures me later.
Yes, I venture.

Perhaps in Puerto Vallarta
they have gone home now
and someone feeds him
sweet oats, pets him while
he drinks his fill.
I hope, I hope,
as the western sky lightens,
and day begins
once again.

Silas House is the current Poet Laureate of Kentucky and the New York Times bestselling author of seven novels. He is a Grammy finalist, a former commentator for NPR's "All Things Considered", and recently won the Southern Book Prize and the Duggins Prize, the largest award for an LGBTQ writer in the nation.