light bar

today i wrote a poem on a chip

a tiny cityscape of shadows

silouhette of energy moving

in

and

out

mapping out and modeling 

conducting tiny signals

to a sunrise of led strips

straddling light i felt

warmth creep up my legs

coloring my hair 

pink 

and 

orange

light, this tiny poem

in my hands illuminating

for the first time my face

in this tiny dark room

bouncing off walls

i didn’t know were white

i walk along the borders

where the walls hit the floor

touching the dust that has

become silver in the light 

touching my skin that has

become warm

for the first time i lift light

step barefooted and carefully 

out of my small dark room

leaving, for the first time

lit, for the first time

seen, for the first time

by a light that is not

from the masculine sun

tonight i sleep under the light 

watching it dance to music

i hold up the tiny chip

watch shadow skylines 

creep along the walls

watch the city shadows envelop

the walls and become more real

than those walls ever were to me.

—may 2022, oakland, ca