morning
fitful sleep and the echo
of footfall down the hall
the scarf of a dream lingers
in the room wafts off
as the eyes open to see
what happened behind closed
eyelids whose hands
was i cupping in mine
someone slammed a door someone
leaped through an open
window
the skeleton of the night
washes its bones
in the rain
water
untouched yet by flesh except
that of a dream
i wash my face in its bones
my face its bones the light
coming off the sheets of rain
the cupping of hands the lips
closing over the rim
of vowels
like a prayer
Originally from Chisinau, Moldova, Romana Iorga lives in Switzerland. She is the author of two poetry collections in Romanian. Her work in English has appeared or is forthcoming in Lunch Ticket, Harpur Palate, Stoneboat, The Normal School, Cagibi, PANK, and others, as well as on her poetry blog at clayandbranches.com.
