there was blue splitting open to white.
we were all standing on the balcony
watching the horizon darken and curl.
under sweaty palms
I could feel the reverberations
against the iron rail.
i winced at three more white swatches
before turning around
and forcing open the glass door.
i couldn’t find a towel or a napkin.
there is never any time,
the stove blinked 12:00 AM
again, again, again
i thought of calling you
but I wondered
if you might be home,