Blackout

Frost turns to caramel
as the sun turns down.
The roof's ribs grew
white last night, dew
covering the dull brown
hardened like a shell.
Now the sugar sticks
in the last shadows
as the sunset licks
the shining windows.
From old back doors
the darkness pours.
The light like blood
beneath the skin,
once a boiling flood,
goes blue and thin,
and twilight steals
like a black cat.
The violet sky reels,
the stars grow fat.