by Jared Harél
I swear we hadn’t seen a good star in years,
just mild brightenings in a skylined sky
or neon decals on our kids’ bedtime ceiling,
until finally, we decided to drive upstate
and park beneath a dome of wild darkness.
The baby stayed asleep – a galaxy all his own –
while you sang “Blackbird” perched upon the hood,
and our daughter blinked up from the edge
of the field, head back as if rinsing out shampoo.
The night was cold. Her spangly sneakers
went black and still and suddenly, I knew
if we did not reach her, something else would—
then Christ how I raced to face my reward.
Published on February 14, 2020