(Alexander Possingham/Unsplash)

Casually, a sleep
                  undoes it.
                  The limited,

                  of my days
                  parts its dusty waves.
I wake

from drowning.
                  It is morning.
                  Lowering like wings
into the room,

a toneless
                  singing balms and balms.
                  It’s deep
as grief

and bitter
                  with relief
                  long sought.
Why did god not,

a moment sooner,
                  when I most needed,
                  come and feed

Published in the February 2024 issue: View Contents

Magda Andrews-Hoke lives in Philadelphia. She studied theology and the arts at the University of St. Andrews and was a 2019 recipient of the Frederick Mortimer Clapp Fellowship for Poetry.

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