Palimpsest

If you held this moment
to the light, you would find 
the script of many things unsaid 
and yet this slant of sunlight says enough.

The rust plaid blanket trembles
on his legs as they read aloud, 
renew their marriage vows. All around,
the quivered heft of tenderness.

Soon, the spill of darkness 
spreading in his head will one 
by one put out the stars. He knows 
he’s reached his margins now, 

each breath a flame turned smoke, 
a vapor dissipating. Here, 
nearing epilogue, a pause
can hold the moment 

still. On the window sill, 
a card, a small bouquet.
Between them, countless syllables. 
Invisible, they riffle air 

like softened waves
or turning pages, 
lift in a calligraphy 
of wings.

ALISON HURWITZ

Nominated for Best of the Net in 2023 and 2024 and a Pushcart Prize in 2024, Alison Hurwitz is the host of the monthly online reading Well-Versed Words. Her work is forthcoming in Thimble Literary Magazine, River Heron Review, and other publications. Officiating weddings and dancing wildly in her kitchen bring her joy. See Alisonhurwitz.com.