The reality, of course
is that the sun
is sometimes a mirage
in the sky, that it’s still night,
still dark even
if your father says look out
the window: sun’s rising
like yeast-bread, up and up.
It will look like it’s coming
from a different angle, more
northeast, now southeast
and you think, my god,
we are shifting, must have
been hit hard enough
to tilt. And aren’t we all
still lying in our nightdresses,
under the weight of these
bodies—The reality
is that we press our faces
against the glass and look
for light, count on something
that shimmers in
the distance, then fades.
It’s not time to wake up, and even
if it were, why
would you want to.
Sara Moore Wagner is the Cincinnati-based author of the chapbook Hooked Through (Five Oaks Press, 2017). Her poetry has appeared in many journals and anthologies, including Gulf Stream, Gigantic Sequins, Alyss, Reservoir, The Wide Shore, The Pittsburgh Poetry Review, and Arsenic Lobster, and she has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.