he speaks to me
like there is danger somewhere
the morose tone in his voice

the echo through the lanai
a soft sillage after he leaves

I stand until the morning weeps
my hands hang, so daring
over the dew drenched brow
of the balcony

the sun rises
not enough for warmth
it sits low in the sky
cold, creeping slow

what are you waiting for?
will you just sleep there
on the mantle of your unfinished sky?
sated, spoiled
dumb to your devoir
assoil yourself
you are a doomed star
rise, already
so that you can set sometime