Today's poem is by Iliana Rocha
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.
Copyright © 2016 Iliana Rocha All rights reserved
University of Pittsburgh Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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