Unapologetically Artistic

The Sense of Up
There was a window in my old house.
You could take out the screen
and sit out on the roof.
My parents didn’t like me up there;
they say it wasn’t safe.
But I was okay.
I’d go out at night
when no one was looking
and stare up into the smog-filled sky,
hoping to find the twinkling stars,
only to find the lonely moon
with some lonely clouds
and occasionally an airplane or two.
I’d fall asleep out there if it wasn’t for
the smell of cigarette smoke coming from my
neighbors backyard.
It made my nose itch, that smell.
I’d quickly put the screen back,
erasing the evidence of my presence,
and retreated to my bed,
where I continued to stare up
at a light-yellow painted ceiling.
Angela Domingo
31