Sean M. Rumschik
Mosaic
I walked her through streaks of
neon the river’s
alleyways to cafes sake bars
immigrant pounded
streets dark houses bent
brick purple sky
rippling our reflection
the river flipped
a tree or shadow of a tree
pieces of light
hanging like incense the city
lamps linked a halo
arced past the long
silence of the locked cathedral
court she was
a tessellation through stained glass
quickly she looked
left and right like a cardinal
and from some direction the street continued
I breathed by the click of her shoes