Go out at night
In bright street lights—
That’s how you look
For death. What feels
Safe, more or less.
Go out at night
Where dark’s still dark
But for the skies,
That’s how you risk
Mere scrapes and falls—
When you’re too wired
For each cracked twig,
For sounds of breath,
The way winds brush
Up your bare neck,
You can’t find death.
