Kites At Night

The unseen was not unfelt;

it gave rise to our bright

hopes, the streamered kites,

as we shivered and knelt

with our collars pulled high

and saw those sails disappear.

We tugged against our fear

of losing to the dark eye

in the clouds, of giving up

colored paper, light sticks,

of breaking our thin umbilicus,

still the new moon called us up

through the haze of stars where cold

black grows wild and uncontrolled.