Based on a painting by
Mary L. Macomber, Night and Her Daughter Sleep, 1902, oil on canvas
night and her daughter
sleep above us
sketching poems
of release
in this moment
I enter their light
without a door
to knock
or an eye to taste
the endless lean
of their voice
in the darkness
their one word song
sits in the back
of my ears
sliding like
one winter
after the next
cold and covid
as a tongue
a skipping star
thrown past
a narrow edge
of sky
alone
January 1, 2024