Absence strikes a chord and
I think of dying without seeing
the northern lights, how my northern cousins draw
the blackout curtains each winter night
but green still seeps through.
Anything can become white noise, static distortion.
I didn't realize how much I missed the stars
until I stopped on the dirt road and saw
the grey sky had once again darkened
and oh how it was eternal to the point of disbelief.
The cicadas scream throughout the night and
I know that when they are silenced by the first frost
the quiet will be too much to bear
Still I will wait at the window,
listening for the echo of an answer.
Ren Gay is a lesbian, autistic poet and has been twice nominated for the Pushcart prize. She is the author of the micro-chap The Hymenopterans (Ghost City Press 2021). Their work has appeared in journals such as Anti-Heroin Chic, The Laurel Review, Qu Literary, Gramma Poetry, FreezeRay Poetry, Persephone's Daughters, and others. She lives in Fargo , North Dakota with her two cats.
Twitter: @RenKGay