Shannon Castleton

We Sleep Beneath Stars of Parallel Trajectories
by Shannon Castleton

From the window,
I watch two geese

in the yard—one flies north;
the other hesitates,

flies south. Love,
we haven’t loved

in so long—
the cherry petals

blush and fall
from their branches,

a few notes still cling
to the wind chime.

I bend to lift
a book from your face,

press a kiss
to your collarbone,

turn out the lamp,
the moon a lone drop

of pearl. Do you think
the geese might circle back?

I touch a faint path of stars
through the window. Today

I have no
new stories—

only the mirror’s
whisper of a crease

from my brow
to my hairline,

the parentheses
framing my lips

growing deeper.

 

Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 22, Issue 1.

Shannon CastletonShannon Castleton’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in journals such as The Cortland Review, Folio, Literature and Belief, and Sycamore Review. She is a graduate of The MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College, and lives with her family in Pennsylvania.

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