quiet night. new moon

and what skinks along the sidewalk like a long white border carrying me home

is not the cat I hear, at left, plunge metallically

into leaves piled fat and wide, leaves that,

in another light, would be the same color as the cat.

so I move on. for the dark here to carry me

home would be unsettling. I know I go

to places by myself with mind made wild

by night and night’s indifference, yes,

I hear it whistle through its teeth.

one more block of crosswalk’s gentle math

to pattern my tall shepherd, I want its black

and white to go forever, I do, and it does.

this wish and still it walks with me. yes and breath or prayer. good

night. all of it falls on, I know.

what I have given of myself I gave up willingly.