A star in Harlem

A single star escapes the carbon haze
tonight – finally –
my soul exhales
until the last breath of air
my ribs didn’t know
they were holding onto
launches its demands
at the sky
I cry
at somepoint
and the people of Harlem think I’m insane –
I hear Okker saying, “she gets like this every time she sees a star”
but I let them stare
my mouth is too full of stardust
to lean into the spotlight of the streetlight
out of whats larger within us
and pretend
I am anything but
in awe.

​-Olivia Mobarakai