What Follows

What follows
close behind me;
pinning only me—
a streetlamp flickers on, then shines.

Now my footsteps pass like billboards;
now the sirens are my breath.
Even in my head this conversation clangs.

With lowered eyes, I try to pass,
but I have no other steps,
and nowhere to move but on—
I’m moving on.

I keep this stranger close behind me—
pinning only me—
warmed by its flicker, then shine.

I have only what follows.

—Devon Glenn