Not one light
shining out on the bay erased
as soon as dusk hits.
I’ve got a lamp. There’s a mirror
over the medicine cabinet.
I’ve got a screwdriver and enough paper
to figure out all the necessary angles:
light’s point of reflection and origin.
I’ll need a ladder—
treetops give me the best view.
Tomorrow night—it’ll take all day
to rig this thing up—
it’ll be my face behind
the sun shining after midnight.
