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The Moon Outside the ER tonight

No one tells you how the light
Is different than before
How losing someone suddenly changes
The earth’s rotation
The stratosphere shifts
Your heart on its trusty axis
Suddenly loose and floating
Disappearing beyond the layers of blue to night sky
No one tells you how the sound fades and magnifies
How even words shape shift before you
They become
The ghost
A silent plea
A call into the tunnel
The light blinding
And when you enter back into this world
Of coffee breaks and shopping trips,
You enter silently
Grief now
Is personal
A private dialogue
And each night you pull the moon up on these shaky strings
Each night the heart opens this book

Rebecca Villineau writes and lives in the South Coast of Massachusetts. She holds a Master Degree in Social Work, and has worked over 14 years as a medical social worker. Her poetry has often been inspired by the process of loss, grief and the power of memories as a source of healing. Her works have appeared in Spillwords Press, Poetry Breakfast and will be appearing in the upcoming summer issue of Months to Years.

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