After Light

After Light

Maybe I dreamed them all
those tiny lamps in the night.

Tonight we are empty
the sky and I -

nothing flutters against my cheek,
the only lights flicker from my neighbors' televisions
and the courtyard lamp's faulty wiring.

I sit down on the concrete stoop
still slightly warm from the now-past sun,
wrap my arms around my knees,
shiver in the eleven o'clock breeze
and wait

for the lightning bugs,
for anything,

to come back.