Dispatch in the Post Meridiem
I am cordially invited to the June evening
in which night sounds take their seats, tune their instruments.
Voices drift over the hedge from the neighbor’s yard,
and the soft twang of a ukulele follows.
Once I have my peace, I resent it. Childlike,
the moon flaunts the sun’s light secondhand—
sheer and white and pointless
as all the penny-candy lies I’ve told for no reason.
Eyes closed, I hear the bats’ soft flight above me,
the opossum’s slow path to the trashcan.
What I cannot hear, despite my best efforts:
neither you, nor any of the dead who have gone before you.
Natalie Homer‘s recent poetry has been published or is forthcoming in Four Way Review, Ruminate, Puerto del Sol, The Carolina Quarterly, Sou’wester, and others. She received an MFA from West Virginia University and lives in southwestern Pennsylvania. Her first collection, Under the Broom Tree, is forthcoming from Autumn House Press