Siobhan Casey

Departure

 

Before my sister

leaves I know that

there is never

a return

 

that there is nothing

but a wooden vision

of steps

 

leading out to road.

 

We talk inside

the steam of

coffee cups

 

inside the round

chk chk chk

of summer sprinkler

 

her wedding

already a permanence

between us

 

a moon resting

on its side

 

 a rusted

bell about to sound.

_____

Filed under: Prose