night

my shadow waddles before me
        like a discomfited pigeon
  it walks beside me
like a mocking thought
a canny truth creeping
the corners of my mind
    to steal into form
I run fingers through it
and it curls upwards
we stand, toe-to-toe
old enemies,
     and walk side-by-side
and pause, at the gate
the window glows, yellow
and the neighbors murmur in Cantonese
the trees darker, much darker
than the sky
and across the street
a column of light, bright and clear
and above it, a low star
faint and flickering
              the fronds shatter
the light next-door
cup a new constellation
in their papery darkness
we pause, at the gate--
and draw together,
faced with the soft challenge
of the night.