The moon is leaving too soon. 

A bell of a glistening bugle,

it swirls silvery notes

through half-closed blinds

across the early-morning room,

composing a refracted lyric

next to the antique mirror

and a picture of a child

playing near a river.

A solo reveille

to wake and hear.

She lies drowsy, 

emerging from the dream

she lives over and over,

dark red hair 

tucked against the cool pillow,

body molded in a white blanket,

like snow over a recent grave.

Motionless, but present,

she slowly focuses

settling on the shimmering script

flickering on the pale wall.

A message so brief

it will cease to exist: 

Wake up, sweet mourner.

Look beyond your bed.

Night is ending.

Night has ended.

Shed your grief.

Bury your dead.

****

An earlier version of Reveille was published by the Delta Poetry Review in its June 2019 issue.

Categories: Poetry, Selection: 2019