You Envied The Stars Their Height

by A.K. Blakemore

The day folded;
Like a Cabbage White closing its wings
On a windowsill.

With the old, worn-out risk,
the unexplainable, skewed
trigonometry
of drunkenness

you climbed the fire escape.

Got on the roof.
But once you were there, you
envied the stars

their height

and could not get back down.