top of page

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.

bottom of page