Austen Leah Rosenfeld

Winter 2018

At night, the windows in our house
become mirrors, as if to say
what happens here will keep on happening.
I press my face to the glass
and see
black trees, black sky, the moon like a pocket
turned inside out.
Below, I hear
a howl, which means our mother is dreaming
with her eyes open
again. I don’t go downstairs after dark
but sometimes
I talk to God from my bedroom.
His voice sounds
like pink and blue buds opening inside of me,
like singing bruises.

Austen Leah Rosenfeld received an MFA from Columbia University. Her poems have appeared in Salmagundi, Zyzzyva, AGNI, Indiana Review, Narrative, Carolina Quarterly, and elsewhere.

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