In Light of the One Left
by Shannon Cuthbert
The poetry of you reached me
Long before your branches,
Before the mourning dove you sent
Brimming with sky.
You slept in my wings, curled up
So long I had to dissect you
At the root, grafting.
Your language rode through me
In waves as all leaves do,
Falling and beginning over
Things we take for granted.
Behind my pillow you
Smile pale stitches on the mouths
Of flightless birds,
On flowers breathing into their sleeves
The secret of being, of remaining.
Long before your branches,
Before the mourning dove you sent
Brimming with sky.
You slept in my wings, curled up
So long I had to dissect you
At the root, grafting.
Your language rode through me
In waves as all leaves do,
Falling and beginning over
Things we take for granted.
Behind my pillow you
Smile pale stitches on the mouths
Of flightless birds,
On flowers breathing into their sleeves
The secret of being, of remaining.
Shannon Cuthbert is a writer and artist living in Brooklyn. Her poems have appeared in Bluepper, Collidescope, and Chronogram, among others. Her work is forthcoming in Ligeia Magazine, Green Silk Journal, The Oddville Press, and Schuylkill Valley Journal.