Every stone was in the right
place and all the eaves were
angled dead square against
the stars. I almost missed
the lantern flicker from
the back door that claimed
your presence. Forgive me.
You looked as you always had,
except your hair was tangled,
brown and roughly cut. I meant
to help you comb it smooth
but had another dream to get to
and too much grief already.
I’m sorry.
Published in Open Arts Forum on .
Sara Clancy is a Philadelphia transplant to the Southwest. Her chapbook Ghost Logic won the 2017 Turtle Island Quarterly Editors Choice Award. Among other places, her poems have appeared in Off the Coast, The Linnet's Wings, Crab Creek Review, The Madison Review, Misfit Magazine, Avatar Review and Verse Wisconsin. She lives in the desert with her husband, their dog, two ordinary cats and a psychotic cross-eyed one.
More by Sara Clancy →
Publishing creative work and building a community around writers, artists, readers, and editors.
