night bus stop in static rain the woman
next to me shares her umbrella without
speaking while somewhere distant the sound
of breaking glass becomes wind becomes
prayer becomes the way her hand trembles
holding the handle and we stand here
in this city that swallows light that
devours hope that spits out advertisements
telling us we are not enough but look
how she tilts the umbrella my way
just slightly just enough to say
we are here we are here we are
here in this moment of metal and water
and somewhere beneath the pavement
seeds are pushing up through concrete
while overhead satellites blink like stars
like stars like stars like distant gods
watching us share this small shelter
this fragment of grace this broken
beautiful thing we call being human