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Streetlight
Gabrielle Aboki
The golden glow of your eye opens
once the sun takes its break
saffron sockets blinking
set fire to the night
You center for homicide memorial,
flowers, pictures, goodbyes enshrined
corral the crowd under your radiance
You extend my shadow and
make me giant
as I traverse these asphalt roads
You something to lean on from the sidelines
the evening basketball game’s sweat
sliding on tanned flesh
You hard-bodied hollow cylinder
metal arm outstretched
warn me to race to the front door
Gabrielle Aboki is an MFA candidate at Florida State University. She is a poetry reader for the Southeast Review.
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