Hard to see in darkness, now —
so little light in the world, so little
kindness in the pines and sycamores.
Even the stone pavers are breaking
apart, crumbled beneath my feet. In
the garden, the moonflower is an eternal
optimist among weeds and beetles —
her white blossoms bloom
in strips of moonlight, perfume
the yard. She dreams of love,
a floral language I press to my ear. Her
body, trumpet-shaped, opens
and opens despite ruin, my fingers
at her throat. How much I want
to keep this one bright thing, twine it
through my hair, fill
an entire vase with this blanched,
delicate beauty. Come here
I say to the heart-leaves. The moon
sinks its teeth behind the houses
and tomatoes. The moonflower
quiets. We drink the dark.
Amanda Auchter is the author of The Wishing Tomb, winner of the 2013 PEN Center USA Literary Award for Poetry and the 2012 Perugia Press Book Award, and The Glass Crib, winner of the 2010 Zone 3 Press First Book Award for Poetry. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming at The Huffington Post, CNN, American Poetry Review, North American Review, Shenandoah, Tahoma Review, and the Academy of American Poets Poem-a-Day project, among others. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Bennington College. Follow her on Instagram and Twitter: @ALAuchter.