-a will against a wound-

from Carmelita McGrath, “Unsent Letter #3”


                                                                     At 6:00 PM
the light is strange, doesn’t seem to know what to do
with itself, sharp and darting. But in truth this March light
has been queer all day, creeping through corridors,
crashing the shadows of birds on walls, casting
in motion or etching in stillness unleaved branches
even as the arcunus is in heavy, early bud. Did you know
there are people who speak to no one for days
at a time, and even stranger, this is not something
to which they have committed?