OPTIONAL POETRY

All night
in a box of light

geometric cradle
of office buildings

windows still lit—
why?

they obscure the sky
replace the stars

above quiet streets
full rivers of pavement

at mostly right angles—
you are the only company

I keep in these hours
and your hunger, and your cry—

I expand to fill each need
the broken boundaries of sleep

the velvet darkness
of this room

this makeshift nursery
I watch you for as long as I can

through the crib slats
your soft sweet topography

its rise and fall
the spark, the core

of these interminate hours—
the whole empty city

revolving around us
galactic, glacial, forgettable—

the only sound
and the only sound

I hear
is the small swell of your breath

water lapping at a shore
I’m here I’m here I’m here—