Aspiration

Wind, shorn from the sky by glass 
and concrete, whistles down the face
of the casino tower, flings the naked
branches of a sidewalk tree, and pours
over the blots of dried spit 
and grease that decorate the edges 
of the gutter. And then redemption—
the miracle of a plastic supermarket
bag whirled away above the debris. 

Billowed gossamer distensions 
rustle and rise, tiny and wan 
as a daylight moon. Higher still, 
it’s only another receding white dot
against an oxygen-blue heaven— 
the wide dome of imaginary stars.