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
f
a
l
l
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