kathryn bratt-pfotenhauer

"THE PHILOSOPHER"

“Tell me, do we see the same things? / Tell me we are the same eyes / burning through the night."
- Emily Jungmin Yoon

I read a book and thought of you
although I have no right to. The sky

a blue fractal of coincidence we
shared, once. Once, a bird

struck the window next to me
and I thought I understood pain.

I watched as it righted itself before
it flew away again, or tried to, broken wing

fluttering like the eye with a tear
in its duct: furious in its attempt.

Your cat, stalking through the tall grass
of the backyard. The dish of candies

your mother put out for me. These are all
things I remember before I remember we

no longer speak. We share two languages
and there aren’t any words. How to translate

the silence in a way that doesn’t end with
grief.