Streetlights lean through clouds of starry faces
dissolving under a steady drum of rain.
Life goes on between scattered papers and fixed clocks.
Forgotten messages are wrapped in the cold room of her heart
She looks for a secret edge where she imagines a door might appear,
or a word, behind her unwilling lips
curls into ashes where thin fingers of smoke squeeze
a delicate pain through her ceramic nerves.
From a distance, the first star flairs above glassed roof tops
and moonlight wrinkles the steps of sleepwalkers
their waxy shadows of lost moments
slowly falling apart
through a forest of curtained windows.
Here life separates a kingdom of memories, patiently waiting
Here the future sheds its skin in public,
when each heart beat least expects it, you can almost hear each life
sound an alarm after years of waiting
while the universe of a day, short-termed and long forgotten
waits down avenues of dawn for the simple grace of human touch.