Reckoning

I’ll be able to speak tomorrow
of reckoning the beckoning waves
like oblate clouds flaked off by
salmon sunlight glowing arrowheads
in a tide of glinting light
the blades that cut reconciliation
that fold open as wounds of pride
bleeding out violet violence
a turgid spray of self-importance
until night falls stark
and I see beyond my projections
and I must face the cold
and bracing truth of my culpability
we may burn bright but we face
a billion like points of light
staring back inside the night