As I Decide to Let You Go

Note: From my poetry thesis, "Mementos of a Hostile City."

I feel something soft, sacred,
the way lights reflect off the
Hudson, funneled silver teardrops

The half-crescent moons of subway lights
guide me as I walk down Broadway,
looking at the extinguishing sky

Waterbeads on black branches
throw pinpoint spotlights on concrete,
like stars descended on gray

Lighted squares tic-tac-toe and
fire escapes lattice up the sides
of anonymous apartments

Rain is icing, crackling on my
umbrella (the red-checkered one),
and as I decide to let you go,

the moon remains hidden

Written: Spring 2004