Wishbone in Moonglow
by Mary Langer Thompson
I leave you to the doctors
and nurses,
come home to our dark kitchen
that dry, brittle wishbone
still on the counter,
illuminated by a moonbeam.
We were going to split it to-
gether, but not now.
And anyway, it seems silly
to pull in opposite directions
as though rivals. 
I step closer. 
The bone's shape is an open heart,
and I know
that I want for you
what you need for me
what we hope for each other
until the clouds cover the moon forever--
that the light not leave us



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