Doctor’s Visit, 3/20/18
Lori Noto
I’ve made love to shadows
during the nights your folded arms,
failing to hold me,
mimicked the movement
of cranes on our bedroom wall.
The winter of me has driven
the cranes away hard.
Often, I look out my window,
hoping a fierce wind
will come and rock a cradle still
until the creaking sounds
like feathers flocking home.
Yet the wind only takes
from me each time it moves.
Your arms knot and twist
around your torso, choking bone,
until I disappear
into the dark of our room.
Our winter has driven
us away hard,
but I know all too well
the warmth that a longing
for the spring brings
to not stay.
I dig my hands
into frozen ground
and sow.