"The Shadows" by Nicole Callihan
The Shadows
The cross-section of a shadow is a two-dimensional silhouette.
If I hold my hand up, say.
Or, sleeping on my mother’s lap in the days before days.
The cotangent of the sun’s elevation angle.
Like sitting on the stairs, like sirens.
A cashmere scarf at the throat, a neatly folded sail.
If I made a list of my fears, it would begin this way.
The loss of light moves at the speed of light.
A list of all I desire would begin similarly.
This property allows for the sky to appear blue.
Once, I walked in darkness, found you, walked away.
Gradually, things begin to blur.
The light pattern goes to shadow diamonds to undifferentiated black areas.
In an acoustic shadow, I can’t hear the dog barking.
The warping of a life.
The dreaming of a dream in which one dreams of dreaming.
By which I mean: I’m still here.
Photo Credit: Staff