Taking Down The Lights
My mom plucked a Star from the sky on a paradoxically warm winter’s night,
Placing her just so
To hang on our stairwell,
Her glimmer caressing the columns on the porch.
I came to Hazleton – mourning the loss of a wasted semester – and
Our little Star wrapped me in its twinkling fire arms;
No guns here but a sweet blanket spreading my lips wide.
We were merely borrowers, so –
My dad wrested the Star – crying with bleak acceptance – from our front porch on a paradoxically warm winter’s night
When car headlights dimmed her glow and
Policemen glared in self-righteous dissatisfaction.
Placing her back in her home,
We were lonely once again –
We held each others’ hands and
I go back to Collegeville – mourning the loss of my Star –
I watch her every night
Through my frosted windows.