I count the days
that pass into dusk,
each one making me a victor
of small favors and ticked-off things.
This sleepless city won’t hold a stranger.
Have I just entered
the fresh middle time of my life
or simply boarded a one-way
off-peak midnight express?
At times, I see my face stuck
on every flickering beat of the night trains.
I peel myself off the window
and take shelter from the night.
Inside my room, mice live
their grammar of prepositions
in modest spaces, tangled like thoughts.
My love, when you ask to see my body again,
I will un(re)cover the forgotten.
You say everything has a breaking point
in its architecture,
but I trust our truths are solid
and willing to wait.
Clara Burghelea is a recipient of the 2018 Robert Muroff Poetry Award. She is Editor at Large of Village of Crickets and got her MFA in Creative Writing from Adelphi University. Her poems, fiction and translations have been published in Full of Crow Press, Ambit Magazine, HeadStuff, Waxwing and elsewhere.