The Cure for November
Julia
Klatt Singer
I miss the turn to the grocery store
following the moon.
it isn’t even dusk yet, but there she
is, full and low
rising above Lowry Hill.
Steeples and clouds are enough to hide
her,
Oaks, still in leaf, the corner of the
house
A boy I knew in college once lived in.
I look to the attic window, expect to
see
Him standing there, a mop of black hair
The still world waiting for him.
Seems not even hunger,
or the fear of hibernation, can keep
my heart from migrating.
I pull into the parking lot, let
The song on the radio, finish. Blow
into my hands, rub them together.
Try to remember what it is
I’ve come here for.