Night Vigil

The iron pot from this afternoon now rests quietly by the wall. I climbed past the rusted drainage pipe and pulled myself onto the narrow concrete lip of the balcony railing. Below, streetlights slice through the dark, and distant vehicles move like tactical units shifting position. A cool draft sweeps past, tugging at the edge of the brickwork, but my footing is absolute. Crossing my arms, I let the night wind scour the fatigue from my joints. Every corridor of the neighborhood is laid bare beneath me. Let the territory test itself; I hold the perimeter.