Climbing Shrub

The sun has swept
through the sky clearing
a path for a full moon,
the scent of night jasmine,
white moths flutter around
the bare light bulb. Smoke
snakes away from a cigarette
and your exhale is drawn out
catching my attention
from the corner of my eye
as if you have something
on your mind, ready to say
as you change your mind
yet again. Your somber
mood dampens the chill
night air, I hold my breath,
wait for the impulse
to pass. You exhale,
smoke coats your clothes
and all I can do is draw
close, inhale, and prepare
myself for roaming words
that swirl in circles, feet
planted on the stairwell
to steady the vertigo
as your hollow life
craves much more
than what the night sky
and its stars has to offer.


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