We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars
These drains haven’t yet dragged
my body into them. The sewer’s sluices
and stenches haven’t yet doused my fire.
My heart is still whole and hopes soars high
high enough, at least, to look to the stars,
to pen this poem.
The night keeps my body awake
to the mosaic of time. The rekindled faith,
that forges our reunion to come.