When Cities Sleep Poem by James McLain

When cities sleep by neon electric light
diming light by the sun, it increases.
Is it not from the steeple
which flies out the bat which I,
am I like you I like glaringly.
Challenged to the beam narrows where
does it blink
that it does that you see in that sun boldly
is colder nor brighter.
The sphere of darkness shines, it blinks,
and perhaps, it is tucked away.
As for folded fire then perhaps,
and perhaps, the shaft it flies, off the bell fry
it burns cold away.
Only because of me it does not do as you please.
You for I,
and prized is it spiritual the company you keep
when you sleep with the quiet red eye.