Total Lunar Eclipse

How I slept through every night in the cleanness
of dark & stars out an open window of a cabin
at summer camp, not like now when I lie wake
at 3:00 am in a murmuring house, the way
it breathes with the wind & the mice
that gather courage in the darkness.

So, I was awake for it last night.
Through my window I watched it disappear.
The moon gathered me up, stood me nearly naked
in front of its shadow self, brought me back
to awe. How I saw something vanish
but knew it was still there.

The way they carried out your body
& delivered your ashes
in a fastened plastic bag
inside the wooden box.
The moon, how it returned.

Sarah Dickenson Snyder lives in Vermont, carves in stone, & rides her bike. Travel opens her eyes. She has four poetry collections, The Human Contract (2017), Notes from a Nomad (nominated for the Massachusetts Book Awards 2018), With a Polaroid Camera (2019), and Now These Three Remain (2023). Poems have been nominated for Best of Net and Pushcart Prizes. Recent work is in Rattle, Lily Poetry Review, and RHINO. sarahdickensonsnyder.com