and the screen removed
i was leaning
arched over the sill
exhaling
a lit cigarette glowing orange in my face
illuminating the knuckles of my fingers
but i looked down
and dew reflected the patches of light
collected from basement windows and guttering street lamps
they looked like stars of the earth
there were constellations
not a replica of the sky's, of course
no belts, no dippers
but images of those passed
strewn throughout the leaves and blades
old life gazed up
forgotten apologies
and grudges never let go
lessons learned, although too late
those that once were, reminding me
to scribble
scribe
scrawl
before my fingers go limp like the wet grass
clinging to the stars
