“Poem for Ann” Elizabeth Muscari

Tonight the cotton moon has sucked the light

into its stomach, the excess seeps through

its pores like a holy aura. You float

on your back wherever it is my body

keeps you. I only find you when it’s necessary.

You must be somewhere convenient because

you come through my throat suddenly.

You appear in the shadows of my

forgetfulness and in either howls or hushes

we inherited each other. But I’ve never

been one to look for the lost.

The night you smoked as children slept,

the starved afternoon of Am I dead yet? 

I only heard about these things.

We collect death in our back pocket

like coins until we pay our debts. Besides–

what I do remember about you happened

also to me in a yard which is now

paved over. The violation of skin still

simulates with cement. But I’m not

one to look for the lost. For now, the dark

arrives in murmured speech where it eats

the flame from my hands and I find comfort

in the fact I might lose you come morning.