Monica Berlin and Beth Marzoni

Light we've known: a sky & such & never

a veil to shade. Not a kind of looking past
or beyond. Not that. Light like water

insists Turn or cross. Let’s choose waist-deep
soaked-through, or deeper. Hours become

a door left open, swinging wide.
Or we turn away. Whatever wind makes:

what headlines, love songs, what burnt sorrow we hold
to our lips. Not secret but awe. So awed, let’s choose grace

& leave it be—this wading & waiting on. These days
hue-bent and window-lit might prove tender

yet, might flush us or flood us, might
imprint—you made water-mark or shadow

or sun-streak on every wall of every here we’ve been
& gone & not & not yet gone. Hand prove true.