and the sidewalk trees are metal-grated,
tonight I see— stars with both eyes open.
In respect of midnight sky, the city houses hunker low,
While, across the Eridanus, Orion shepherds clouds.
From these darkened doorsteps, between Newark and me, tidal
Hudson twists unseen; there, life also feels the brisas blow.
Like my inner wrists, these branches: in lamplight skin,
veins are kissed with chapsticked lips, small fingertips;
and scaled bark is raindropped.
Copyright Xiomara A. Maldonado 2008