and one such dark was formed from shadows
reaching as far in as the bedside mat
which sat like a little island on the parquet floor
where we undressed. From the top bunk I looked down
on our earrings signaling in the lamplight, red beads
to crystals, and when we turned our pages
the frame gave little shudders, not frighteningly
but in the way of a reminder: what is granted,
take it, full force. And when my granddaughter
leaned out to scoop air in quick beating motions,
another kind of dark opened in me. Of forgetting
these invisible things: the two of us
in a small boat and the sun not far off.
All the different darknesses of the world by Gill Horitz |Poetry Reed Diffuser
$20.00Price
