From the entrance
to a moonlight gazebo,
she asks the first star she sees:

“Why won’t you become hyper
text like everything
beneath you?”

It’s been so long since
she’s given herself permission
to go outside after dark,

she forgets how delicate,
how vast,
the response.

A mile from the First Avenue walls
of stars, she can almost hear
a stray song flinch

as it gets linked
to its roots in the holler
where there’s still a twinkle in his eye.