Tap

2.15.2022

What I've missed the most in LA are stars

They don't show themselves to us 

At the foot of the mountains, they don't 

Lead beyond the smoke 

It's easy to feel alone down here these days

I'm not sure where to point the finger 

But someone up some place 

Is leaving us all to figure it out 

And this winter's night, it's 72° and God

Is everywhere to be missing 

I stretch my fingers through the blinds, to see fully, 

The half-full

Like a moth trapped in a jar 

Of barely enough 

Wool for food

I unclench my jaw, again, taste

This rare, coal-blue sky

And this well of a sought-heaven to sip from. Tonight 

There is a faith in learning what reveals itself–

In what sees us: half-dead, half-trying

From beyond a shaken glass, 

What a reminder, dead or alive

We must be released.