Slipping through an open gate
It claims all the ground it can, a slash
Across the lawn and halfway up
The other fence—in gold no less.
Its assets nearly spent, it spends
What’s left dissolving tenth-floor stone
To coral foam or stretching children
Into Giacomettis on the pavement.
Calls to catch it at the window often
Disappoint, the coin just dropped
Into the cloudbank slot or tinctured out
In already fading pastel washes.
Flashlight, flood light, the highway’s comet beams:
All devised to make what’s over last,
New constellations wheeling through the dark
With one star steadied by the baby’s bed.