“All Soul’s Night” by Annette M. Krizanich


For a while the sun was inside
the water: submarine flood-

light. It wasn't alone; the other one
hung above it. I sat in the room

the woods made. All was brown
and down at last, and the silent

air delineated my breath. Shadows
sprawled behind me. When I stood

to leave, mine was the only one
moving. Then the other shadows

fused. Now they're all one:
the earth's. Leaves hurt my ears.

Is this air or dark glass?
The fullness of the moon surprises

me: fragmented by black hawthorn
and maple branches. When I step

from the trees, it follows, whole
again. No matter where I go

it's over my shoulder:
it's the face of the one I can't forget.