← v18n1, Spring 2019
Poetry · Volume 18, Number 1

Return

The moon

lumbered slow

and heavy

in front

of the sun

Thunder

to our left

lightning

thrashing

the distant

black clouds

At last

in the eerie

green dark

our bare eyes

witnessed

the black

disk rimmed

with gold

with fine

red lines of fire

at the ragged

and we knew

the grand

weight of radiance

would return

like we knew

our own hands

yet when the gold

sliver finally

reappeared

animal

relief gushed

out of lungs

compressed

by fear

we hadn’t known

abided there