K___, tell me that story once more, the one about the curve
of your daughter’s arm tossed across your shoulder, light
as a shadow of the crescent moon
 
how you sat so still to keep time from passing, each moment
holding to what feels like home, a family, its bright pleasures
our temporary shelters
 
I’ll tell how racing clouds strobed moonlight across our dark fields
searching out the chorus of insects in thickets rattling on
about the storms we contain
 
There was a time I believed words could build a world
of solace, arranged like stars in an arc from loss to abundance
 
but isn’t abundance just another phase, said the moon
a flash of light we’re passing through, said the storm

Marietta Brill

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