Adam Mahout

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You beg me for honesty,

              Yet you demand entertainment.

Won’t you take my word

               For even a cigarette’s light?

I want to whistle with you tonight,

              Walk beside your pocketknife;

To be short cut,

               I’d measure every straw.

But you’ve switched off the lights,

             And the sky looks like a dark glass screen.

Alone together,

             We can only see ourselves,

Shivering stars,

             From such astronomical distance:

And I know why

            The dark matters.

Poetry arrangement by Adam Mahout