In the Lamplight
by Ruby Josephine Lewis
In the spectral lamplight, humming
bugs beat steel rhythms against the
garage door. Murky, somnolent
moonbeams paper honey
ribbons over the crabgrass. Air is
thick as waist-deep water, still as the engine
cut. Willows slim as herons’ beaks
list wanly toward memories of
water. Night’s blue bellows break
against defiant headlights. Here,
the plums of your fists were sweet.
Mama murmured warmth to the
blanketed bundle of you. With one palm,
she silenced the winking moon.