Hilary Sallick

April

I think we are shadows moving
in dark houses
Beyond the panes
of the house next door
the shadow of a child
runs through a room
But the morning is made
of complete light    leaning
into every crevice
spacious   
The trees’ flowers
hold clusters of snow
toss the light back in pieces
into the wholeness
Last night I dreamed that my mother
was pregnant    It was
a big surprise    I was wondering
How old is she?    then
I guess it can happen
even now
My mother was worried
about her body   Could it
withstand that
again?
But I thought    A baby!  
kind of like when I
was a child     and
begging my mother to
have another    so I
could hold it
I slept late  
When I woke and raised the
blinds here was this light
It comes pouring in
a wash   a wave    gentle
filling basin   cove    bay
inlet of backyard
narrow driveways   all the airy spaces
divided
by power lines
and branches of trees    their leaves
just beginning

Hilary Sallick

Hilary Sallick is the author of two full-length collections, Love Is A Shore (forthcoming from Lily Poetry Review Books) and Asking the Form (Cervena Barva Press, 2020). Her poems appear or are forthcoming in Notre Dame Review, Small Orange Journal, Autumn Sky Poetry Daily, The Inflectionist Review, Empty House Press, Ibbetson Street, and other journals. She teaches reading and writing to adult learners in Somerville, Massachusetts, and she is vice-president of the New England Poetry Club. To learn more, go to www.hilarysallick.com.