After I Lost You
       

Night's thumb rubs the television screen
into snow, & I am no casualty

to the moon. I am awake.

Terribly. The dog crawls onto my pillow
like a dream trying to escape into an egg—

what breaks black in my stomach?
Just another stone.

Even snow talks, shivers, & disappears—

hangs up the phone. At 5:38 a.m., the dog barks
at weather that sounds like music notes

in a frying pan.

Tweet

Copyright © 2016 Iliana Rocha All rights reserved
from Karankawa
University of Pittsburgh Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission