Listening to the Stars Breathing

[sirensandsatyrs]

The night sky expanding, contracting,
inhaling, exhaling the cloud cover
blowing out of cigarette smokestacks.

A huge spiff beneath the half-moon,
half-shadows and half-light pirouetting
amidst black and white piano keys
cast on pavement by branches.

The boys in the window debating religion,
watching television in the name of God.
The light switch down, the stories bouncing
off the walls: the time Joe got shot,
and how everyone in high school turned gay.

Down and away from the polished white walls,
the creaking steps onto the bricks,
pried from the computer screen
and its thousand faces, too afraid
to make one decisive move,
but silently staring at updates.

You cannot deny that poems are hiding here,
behind bushes and bumps in the roots.
Tonight you spew haiku from your pockets
about how you sat on the bench,
looking into black atmosphere.

Or how your thoughts appeared on NPR,
or how the blanket stretched over the treetops
and something was moving underneath the sidewalk.
You felt it beneath you and understood

someday the ocean
will swallow this city whole.
Do not be afraid.