Not Yet, Beacon
Walking out
that heavy,
lockless door,
down towards
streetlights
deferring to
parked cars’ hazards,
taking leave,
yes,
but first (and finally)
a seat.
Not yet,
Beacon,
for a little
while longer
I remain solely
a street-facing thing,
something perhaps
still worthy of
being assigned
an address,
or the alms
of one
at least,
not yet grounding
these five years
of chasing
your unfigured light
up and down
four bounded flights