early morning and a cat mews
from the scissor-cut black shadows
my bare feet slap down
the dead moth silence of the inner city
a pair of dance shoes dangles
from my hand; straps sullied, buckles torn
the lemony sun recuperates
from behind bruised clouds and slow-dripping trees

nothing stirs
i’m so…alone

until, floating through the air in gentle solace,
delicate threads of sound seek me out
oh sentient being who plays this music
come out from your shadowy terrace
let me see your face, let me know who it is
that arouses within me such poignant longing
who makes me so desirous of sorrow
for the joy of it lifting