Dana Gittings

I find you in a dream.
I’m coming home,
burying the hatchet
of an old and dwindling rage—

so many years
after the moon broke,
the stars searching blind for their places
in the sky.

You look at me
for a spell,
blankly staring,
a thicker book than broken hearts can read.

The full circle of time apart
ebbs over your body
as you roll away, facing
what I can’t see in your eyes—

the flesh of years
tendered loose
as we marched on
each day and each night,

one life and one death,
two halves of a once
so warmly lit
whole.