Here comes the cosmic hour
to quiet, and listen
to hold my heart by my hand
lead it down the cobblestones and
each dip of the alleyway
sitting still now, watching
the ladybirds make figure eights on the wall
the minutes chasing me into the evening
as I try to get to the bottom of myself
and all the while
the air turns crisp and the edges less sharp
some flavour of peace I hadn’t noticed before
belonging and longing
with a sprig of fresh mint and sugar around the rim
on the rocks, of course
I show up –
not what I ordered, but I down it and head to the library.
Illustration by Tiffany Tsoi.