Through the many gaps between the many wooden planes
a screen of bath water condensed and blurring
a single street lamp, amber imparted
over sleeping cherry blossom and nuthatch
I sit peeing, not seeing an owl but sensing
it unseen somewhere perched in the periphery
of hooded amber shedding over cold earth
through open blinds still
streaks of dew, drawn there—
moths spiraling the post, muted, up-swirling
my waters hissing over pale pearl bowl, moon
revealed slow through slits in slate plush, even veiled
her glow diffuses
and locates me, I imagine nothing
but this.