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

Opaletk wafer intricately depicting Mary and Jesus

Opłatek

JANNETT MATUSIAK
My mother breaks the card-sized wafer embossed with the nativity into fragments and wedges one into my father’s still hand, placing it on his chest. We each take our own piece to offer and receive from each other. My father’s voice is at a whisper as we all lean down to kiss his cheek.

Child on wooded path

Ice Cave, Late March

AURORA SHIMSHAK
I create an occasion for my grandmother. I don’t call it anything, but it’s an occasion nonetheless. For the occasion we travel in her car to the park she shared with me when I was small.

Image of Statue

Statue

LISA WILLIAMSON ROSENBERG
As a little Black girl, you have not asked this question. The thing you think most about this statue outside the American Museum of Natural History is that there are never fewer than three pigeons roosting on it. There is always one on the highest spot.