Round Midnight

Oscar Velasquez

On the sixth-floor balcony
of our first apartment,
I can't see the moon
I'm searching for

for inspiration.

It hides,
& I’m left to imagine
what it must look like tonight.

Back in our living room,
with all the lights off,
the only glow
is that of the laptop
I've been battling with 
all night.

But I refuse to sleep
'til I write
one poem.

On the counter,
near your flowers,
four pink balloons
are tied to chairs.

& I untie one.

I slip back outside
into the night

& let it go.

The crinkled foil balloon

drifts,

rises,
    
    spins

a slow vanishing
       into the dark.

I stay, watching,
until it's gone.

Then, finally, I get to sit
& type it on the screen

for all the world
to see it too.