Poem of the day

Silver Threads from John Mikhail Asfour’s Blindfold

He recalls
the absence of sound, the impossible silence
the disappearance of light.

He is only aware of
the movement of his
mother’s hand inside
her purse, looking

for her handkerchief.
He recalls her
warning not to play
with unknown objects
the type that explode on impact. Later,

he lies in the dark remembering
how she pointed out
the silver threads of the morning light
just the day before
and he sparkles
with guilt.