At Night

as you read it

this is the moment after the loss,

the garden as heavy as a standing horse,

as a frozen moon hangs like a buoy at ebb

north is the direction of winter,

a stripped-down world before the crawl

i hear your letting down of the shutters,

your steps tired up the stairs

Reviews

[Emily B]

I have missed your words. I need to find my way here more often.