by Kersten Christianson

Stars remain hidden
in winter’s third full moon
The sun, a traveler without
a passport, hasn’t crossed

this border in weeks.
Each afternoon, I stand
at sea-facing windows,
hope for a cracked egg sky

a sucker hole that illuminates
my space if only for a moment.
In the meantime, I’ll angle
the iPhone camera this way,

or that, catch a certain flash
through dangling crystal, twitch
of tree, a scatter-bomb of rain
against glass.