Milk

readwritepoem 10

In the dark kitchen my unseen hand
Lifts a jug from the lighted refrigerator
A dim white sail.

By feel I choose the last tall glass,
Invisible. Then I pour
And in the moonlight

The inside of the glass takes shape
As the fluid fills it, and the moon
Claims her own.

The vesicles tug, and there is a hotness
At the corners of my eyes: She pulls
All flowing things

To her side of the world.