written by: Ipsita Banerjee
Through the open window
moonlight shimmers on the floor
the sharp rain has rinsed clean
the yellowed stains of the day.
Only your thumb print remains
etched into the skin below my ear
where you touched me that last time
before you went away.
The moon marches in swathes of light
as I lie awake, sensing, not seeing
its journey across the sky
corseted in shadows of clouds and lace.
Sounds of life are muted
by the chatter of my pen with paper
you watch me frown over my whys
denying – that we share this space.
For full moons bring memories
in smoke and winter fires
your voice a burst of cold air
that washes over my deepest nights.
I look up from the page
certain I will see you here:
all my thoughts, naked and raw,
startled, like birds, into flight