Shadowland

Twitches of thimbles were soldiers shot
Dead from range. Death by shadow gun -

The innocence of life was never clearer
Than in that dim box-room we dusked
With candlelight through hand dogs
And finger wolves against the whitewall.

Sillhouetting eternity, one dimensional,
But then, childhood was a bit like that:

In absentia and silenced. The imagination
Projected as if a dark recreation of itself.