Say that soft refraction of moonlight
slipping through a wedge of night sky
between buildings shatters on the fire escape –
night like a lost diary –
Someone comes out to smoke
on a landing overhead
She leans on the rail and looks down
at me already looking up
Long ringlets fall past her shoulders like black rain
There’s something alive inside that mask of shadows
A radio sings through a lit window behind her
Wooden flutes. Rainstick
Nothing spoken, only sung
Everything floats
She raises her head and blows
a plume of smoke into the moon
She gives me this existence
I give it back, heavily used
This is how we cast shadows in the dark
