This soft morning
Calls for low keening,
Between the sheets
She does not know
Where his skin
Begins and ends.
With full sunrise
They arise, smoke
And ashes left
In their bed,
She prays the day
Will pass on quiet feet.
The day’s small moments
Like small touches
Lift from their skin
As incense,
Each breath
Brings a tiny smile.
Night’s sadness brings
Daylong sighs,
Sleep falls on them
The heavy boots of
Lies and truth
Of blood and love.
Cynthia Eddy lives and writes in Atlantic, VA on the eastern shore of Virginia. The quiet village sustains her sense of neighborhood and belonging. She holds a BA in Art History. She has been published in Third Wednesday, Eunoia Review, Epiphany, Z-composition, Deep South Magazine and in Emerge Literary Journal. Poetry creates a chord between reader and poet. That chord remains long after the reading. Every poem reaches into the reader and brings forth an understanding, a moment of ‘I’ve been there’.
