In that Yellow Light
by Lily Bibro
I think of you here
When it storms
And always catch you lurking
Reflected in puddles
Illuminated by streetlamps,
Fighting against midnight rain.
I wonder how you manage to shine so clearly
Through the mud, through my footsteps
Whose waves distort your image.
Through the cigarette butts and loose change
That cover your nose and dimple your cheeks
Puddle after puddle
You stare forth undaunted
Ushering me home.
I invite you in,
A cup of water from the kitchen
Eagerly accepts your reflection.
Cradling you in porcelain,
I stand in the meager light
Watching your dimples fade
I remember that night
When we sat on the pavement,
Cracked and loose like biscuit dough
Welting our skin and blackening our soles.
We ran just far enough,
From your mom,
From anyone else,
Together, feeling dangerous.
The lone streetlamp fluttering
Softly, on that July night
Your eyes turned green
In that yellow light.
I remember that day
Face masks and hummus in my twin bed.
Smoke furling out the window
Nothing left undiscussed.
We sat in the bathroom,
You hunched over me sat on the sink
And I perched on my desk chair, as you
Softly patted makeup onto my eyelids
Under fluorescent sunshine.
So atrocious it was, that only laughter
Could make it beautiful
In that yellow light.
I remember being girls together
We sprawled on young grass, hands clasped
Before it all.
When you look up at the sky outside the studio,
Do you pray for rain?
Or do you savor daylight
And beg for drought?
I wander out to the back patio some nights
And sit on the wet, smooth ground
Searching for you in the dampness
Water drips down chrome bike spokes
That glimmer under the beaver moon
You flash by in that yellow light.