Gloves rest folded on the rail
Black leather drinking misty pale
Bay light fractures cold and thin
Each finger catches where it begins
Light holds leather leather holds light
Twin palms glowing in the night
No voice sings no choir rises
Just the hush of compromise
Stitching silvered by the spray
Thumb and forefinger turn to gray
Cable sings its low taut line
Gloves absorb the wet design
Altos hum in bone and breath
Half remembered hymns of death
And resurrection in the palm
Quiet fire steady calm
Light holds leather leather holds light
Twin palms glowing in the night
No voice sings no choir rises
Just the hush of compromise
Foghorn moans through Golden Gate
Gloves don't tremble don't abate
Each crease a psalm each fold a prayer
Midnight wandering unaware
Dawn bleeds rose through salted air
Leather warm from what was there
Two hollows shaped by human heat
Waiting for the next cold street
Light holds leather leather holds light
Twin palms glowing in the night
No voice sings no choir rises
Just the hush of compromise
Gloves catch dawn gloves catch light
