Veronica Patterson


  for siblings


I love the moments of dark before sunrise

as the year turns inward


the house with you asleep

and my hold rippling outward


to daughters in their places, sister

and brothers, who began with me


drinking milk and running into the world

where night came with its Milky Way




and in the mountains six days ago

with sister and brother


I saw the Way again as once

and the Big Dipper on the horizon ready


to one day scoop us up

and I was—we were—shiny, and earth


turned beneath us, injured but asleep,

dreaming Himalayas




and there is this—sometimes I know dark

in my throat, as when just having left


the hospital room where your brother lay, gauze

twisted high above his opened head, a Trojan soldier


crumpled after battle in more than sleep,

I murmured, go back in to him,


say good-bye before we leave—

and you did







© Copyright Veronica Patterson 2018. All Rights Reserved