胸がはち切れそうで

there is something entirely ethereal

in standing above the skyline,

your body just another blur of colour

in the blue-silver cityscape

you could walk to the top

of the big night sky and call it home,

don’t you know?

but you remain there, on the threshold,

uncurl your fingers and reach

(though you’re not sure what for)

and you wait. patiently. placidly.

for a word. one word

to counter, or maybe complement

the three words you’ve been thinking all this time

you fill your lungs with night air

tasting of peaches and pinky promises

and still you wait,

peering down, down at far-away shadows of

cherry blossom trees cast over sidewalk squares

asphalt like a blank canvas pleading to be made art

there are many words that could be said

here, now on this rooftop

but only one with the potential to tug you

away from the edge,

away from the end

to scratch out ‘epilogue’ and write the next chapter

“don’t.”

echoing, echoing

bouncing between buildings

carving itself into the walls of your skull

don’t, don’t, don’t

and at this solitary word

you

but not down to the cherry blossoms

you baptized with tears of premature heartache

or the sidewalk squares

or down at all, really

no, you fall in love

for the first time and maybe the hundredth time

just a tall child in love in late spring