Mudlark No. 45 (2012)

The Visitor

Her quiet friend visits and will not leave.
His coat is held in place with pins
and his makeup runs
when she touches a damp hand to his face.
While she sleeps her bag is packed
and placed outside the door. 
God will sweep the leaves from her eyes
if she will ask.

Her Sky

Wild daisies 
pressed inside a young woman’s diary
as if she knew they mean Farewell.
By Labor Day, copperheads give birth 
and frost grapes come full. 
She looks up from her place on earth.
Pale sky of water-stained tiles, 
nine dark stars apiece.


The handsome couple strolls the summer beach,
admiring the endpapers of the sea.
The past dissolves behind them,
a tern’s cry swept away by the surf.
Her trim legs, his sheen.
She imagines them clearly
while having supper with the others,
feet burning inside her paper shoes.

Stephen Knauth | Frederica >>
Contents | Mudlark No. 45 (2012)