the night hums under a black felt blanket

a scarce peppering white-hot stars

fading in and out of view of glassy eyes

sirens, howling, moaning

electric currents darting through the air

the after hour oxygen a toxic substance inhaled


peeling, dry lips, tendrils of mist inhaled 

curled up in smoke and blankets

two bodies sweating and moaning

hearts beating red passion, lungs stealing used air 

minds racing like shooting stars

swallowed euphoria and dilated eyes


the sky switches sides and they close their eyes

the morning breath of the city exhales, inhales

tire-marked, bleeding animals lay on the road, moaning

a terrified, muffled world covered in a denial woven blanket

hides the dying stars

the sins of the night still linger in the air


And though they lusted in the hot air, 

feeling as though their souls and eyes

were connected, their bellies were burning stars

that eventually burned out. They inhaled

cigarettes at noon and peeled back the blanket

as they left the car it creaked and moaned


the domed sky trapped the groan

of a woman gasping for air-

a baby lay wrapped in a blanket

skin untouched by evil, having not seen with its eyes

death, mouth not yet inhaled 

the truth of the world under the stars


bonily wandering lost, plagued with starvation

wide eyes, wildly alive, peering up at the moon

in hail

and in storm, continuing on, a dirtied blanket

dragging behind. She laments, “If only I

had a mother, or even a comb for my hair”


and when the air grows hot, and the sky is peppered by white-hot stars

she too, will find a car, where all innocence will flee her eyes. She will not moan, 

she will not cry. But inhale slowly as the sky switches sides, and leave her blanket behind.