Amanda Auchter

Catching a Sunset

I catch sunsets that burn and glow
in the palm of my hand. They are
the jeweled secrets of a surrendering

dusk, and the last light stretches
and yawns, bathing in the final blue
slip of sky. Beyond the red, the pinks,

the slumbering blues, the sun closes
its great orange eye, leaving behind
the blackness of a burnt match,

and sleepwalks toward the edge of my bed.
I let go. My fingers extend into the dark
and the sun drops onto the floor, out, out, at last.