After Dark

You walk out your house,
your dwelling, your
like a root, a tuber
at a sill, you wonder
at the wet
of the street
and look up.
It’s just finished
raining, the trees
are these sorry
umbrellas. They
don’t work. The tip
of a nose
catches a star.
There goes a cat,
slinking, you think
his name is Barnabas.
You think the blue sky
never looks as nice
as now, just after
a storm, your stone
street cobbled all dark.
You look up to the cuplike
glow of blue,
and think
it liberate us
because it’s
nobody’s eye.

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