Night has many weird angles

Night has many weird angles.
I look out at the endless,
embarrassing pointiness.
Its peaks are paper mouths
licking blue bells in the bulbs.
Meaning: light, a daffodil.
All suffering is funnelled.
Hold a cone up to your heaving life.
Turn away your horse.
Must I think of every little thing?
Remember me like a mirror.

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From Issue 7 of NOIR SAUNA

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Zachary Schomburg is a poet and painter living in Portland, OR. His newest book, Wool Moon, is forthcoming in the fall of 2026 from Black Ocean.