EVERY SHADOW TAKES THE SHAPE OF A DAUGHTER

JESSICA LYNN SUCHON

 
 

Nights, she waits for me in the back yard.

A child skimming dead grass in a floral

nightgown. Cardinals watch us like bloodstains

on dark branches. She never had a name.

Her mouth, my mouth – the same thin bow –

opens and the sky goes white, fills with dried

moth wings. She catches one on her tongue and

cries. I reach to hold her, touch only snow.

 

 
 

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