The Vault

Little wave
in thought. 

Blank architecture 
that holds me. 

This is a little psalm 
in the moon-

struck snow. 
Thank you,

for I haven’t been 
patient as promised. 

Thank you,
for the desperate

Hopper-esque light. 

There is so little
to hold, I said

as I held it. Each 

of strength 
that entered

my hands.

Copyright © 2021 by Andrés Cerpa. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on May 18, 2021, by the Academy of American Poets.