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.