Uneasy Sleep

By YVETTE CHRISTIANSE

Who was it that cried out? This cry,

a call that opens night

breaks out like a bird

breaking to greet dawn, or

the arrival of a high tide

that brings schools of fish

whose scales make the waters

glint and shimmer, glint and shimmer.

 

Who cried? Who woke us

to such things on such a dark night?

Do not ask. No, do not ask.

The moon will make a basin

for tears and where your heart beats

a well will dry up and the weight

of ships leaning against the wind

will make you think of a woman

hanging in the hammock

of an early death.

 

 

Yvette Christiansë is a South African-born poet, novelist, and scholar.

Photo by Lainii from Flickr Creative Commons.

Uneasy Sleep

Related Posts

Cihu Memorial Sculpture Park

Cihu

ADAM DALVA
One of my life’s regrets is skipping the Cihu Memorial Sculpture Park when I was in Taiwan. ... I spent a week wandering Taipei… but all along, I was thinking about Cihu. I’d researched the park before my trip, but my host said… he’d rather show me the art and night-life of his city. I was twenty, night-life susceptible.

Woman examines leaf

Providence

DARIEN HSU GEE
On the side of the road near our home on the hill in Waimea, a cluster of perfumed yellow ginger, Hedychium flavescens, also known as cream garland-lily or ʻawapuhi melemele.

Pine tree at sunset

July on South St. (AEAE)

NICK MAIONE
I open the doors and windows and shut off the lights./ For a while I play tunes on the fiddle / shirtless in my dark house. I love doing this. / For the first time all day I am not at home. / For the first time since the last time / my body is the same size as my flesh.