"The Telling" by Kate Northrop from SUGAR HOUSE REVIEW

The Telling

There wasn't a place,
when he told it, like this place,
so fine, and nothing, not a thing
in the world we girls loved
as we loved each other,
all swung, nightfall, in one
direction like boats, cabins
lighting up in the dark. Clouds
drifted in, when he told it,
come in over the causeway,
and we pressed ourselves,
cut-out circles of felt,
to the ends of things. We slid
over the floor Mondays,
Tuesdays, Wednesdays, called there
like trees outside a closed window,
or rippling in place, like oil,
when he told it.

Copyright © 2025 Kate Northrop All rights reserved
from Sugar House Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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