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.