Orion is upstanding overhead

and Venus does a dance of slow recession

with a thin new moon balanced on its back—

Artemis’s bow, aimed straight down.

The palms don’t deign to rustle in the dark,

that dark which falls with an intemperate speed

and seems a shade of silver-green wherein

the oleander blooms burn black, like coals

So flat, this Florida has sidewalks that

seem made for wheelchairs and for shuffling steps

too old and slow to wear away concrete.

The starlight walks upon the dimpled Gulf,

the banyans widen sideways while we watch

a Cadillac prowls by, in search of sleep.