Sarah Gorham
September 2006

Dusk

                        for Tom and Dodie

Consider dusk
that drapes the forest in a monk’s
cowl, that silences the free-for-all
and fashions for our souls
a sleeping place, but knows to create
one last, delicious treat:
a red-eyed vireo, its song
swooping up like Mary Martin
to her lofty perch. Pleasure
like birdsong is sharper
when surrounded by the lack.
We touch each other’s faces in the dark
and the reason floats up slow—
why we married so long ago.

First published in The Southern Review.