night, painted thin onto the air
no clouds, no stars, just oceanic blue and
clocks that do not tick, we climb up slippery
ladder rungs, across rickety beams still in our
party clothes, still in awe of our youth, our
hands, one another’s warm bodies, sharp
bones, secrets spilled like wine on the carpet,
we run away, fast past noise complaints, those
who can’t catch on, we hitch a ride, our skirts
up, climb high into the dangerous, wanton
night that paints itself an endless blue
symphony we throw ourselves at the canvas
of nighttime see what sticks, what hurts, what
reminds us of fire and being eleven, when I
learned how to ride my bike with no hands I
had no idea I would be chasing
this feeling, headlong, forever
Claudia Maurino, ’24