Independence Day

The droplets on the water shower wall
are a field of molten stars
wide ribbon on a sandy sky
around the planet.
Dark material gone blonde
lights up the dying universe
and we are found here, so raw
within our shells, our favored personas.

Loudspeakers pour the sound of panting deer
into the ears on the street, an audio wind
so few have heard, a generation of light
comes pouring out of a subway mouth.
To be a grain against, among, fighting for,
flocks of black doves that fly out of the fog
on the platforms.