Outside of Mr. Smalls,
his eyes see the stars

and their absence. Light
pollution again polluting
this light. Angel Olsen

polluted the air
with questions. Won’t you open
a window sometime? I place

my hand on the window,
it will not open. What’s so wrong
with the light?

There is only
darkness inside
the concert hall.

I look

into his eyes and I see
stars— windows— light—
everything you’ve already heard of.
What makes me a Woman?

I’ve been told
how to love. I’ve been
taught how to write. When
he tells me

that he has a girlfriend,
I wonder why no one
taught me how to be
a woman.