I raise my hand to the night,
hold her coral glow
between thumb and forefinger,
slow her progress to the next cloud.
A slight crescent at her rim.
– the beginning of a smile, perhaps –
Tomorrow, she will turn
by degrees down to a fingernail,
but will come back. Each phase,
a waypoint on a journey,
and my metaphor through grief.
Tonight, tears mist her halo
as she cups my pain in her shine,
I am drawn by the gravity of it.
I sense it on my lips
as a whisper I cannot hear
but divine its meaning.
A pull, fragile as the waking moment
of daylight on the eyes,
as dawn slips between the curtains
and chases away the dark
of another night alone.
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