It's an awful stillness the moon feels
--William Stafford, "Looking Up At The Night" 

The house turns to the moon.
Wait. It has always been like this,
the yard as pale as fishbone.
I wake, listening. The dog nuzzles air
in her dream. Her body isn't meant
to be reborn. Sweep back the covers.
Walk to that blind window where the house
breathes. Listen to the blood racing
and wonder what calls.
I have walked through currents
on legs of stone. I know now
there's a gate floating free. Touch here,
this place where leaves knock.
You will survive this water.

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Marion Boyer is an emeritus professor for Kalamazoo Valley Community College. Her chapbook, Green, was published by Finishing Line Press and this year her poetry appears in The Atlanta Review’s 10th anniversary anthology, as well as an anthology from Outrider Press of Chicago. Rhino recognized her as the 2006 winner of their Readers/writers contest. Permafrost, Midwest Poetry Review, Crab Creek Press, The Spoon River Poetry Review, The MacGuffin, and Heliotrope have also published Boyer’s poems recently.  

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"An Awful Stillness" was previously published in The Midwest Quarterly, Autumn 2003.  

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kaleidowhirl  |  spring 2007