The Point Where the Circle Begins
by Kerfe Roig

I am still waiting for the moon—
face against the window,
staring between the buildings
to where it appeared once before.

I draw
a circle not quite
an enso but still
opening
to let the inside out.

I am still waiting for the night
to grow ravens’ wings—
black on black, glittering, quivering—
almost a color, escaping form.

The inside
is never really empty—
there is always more
to reveal
always more to hide.

I am still waiting for the wind
to take the shadow branches
and dance against the sky, against
the moon, flying on ravens’ wings.

Those gestures
turning on nothing
at all and then
suddenly
returning to all that is. 

PAINTING:Moonlight Crows by Bernadette Resha (2014).

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: When I first moved into my current apartment in August, I could see the moon out my…