Dona Nobis Pacem
       

The moon grows from nothing to a porcelain sliver.
The cat bloodies her feet against the screen chasing moths.

Our children sleep in the rooms above while I drag a cloth
across the red petals the cat leaves on the kitchen floor.

I join you in the bed of this passing hour, knowing
porcelain will again sift through the screen, and, again,

moths will flood to it: light cut by their beating wings,
which come morning our children will find in pieces.

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Copyright © 2013 Todd Davis All rights reserved
from In the Kingdom of the Ditch
Michigan State University Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission