by Elizabeth Vignali


That first time
was on an unfinished staircase
in a house under construction in February

The rough edges
of our experience
Our white winter hands

I watched constellations between the rafters
Orion undid his belt behind a 2x4
Cassiopeia slid her W down the roof

The ragged edges
of the rough-sawn wood
caught the fibers in our jeans

Pushed into
contrast the unbrokenness
inside them



Elizabeth Vignali is an optician and writer. Her poems have appeared in various publications, including Willow Springs, Crab Creek Review, Nimrod, Floating Bridge Review, and Menacing Hedge. Her chapbook, Object Permanence, is available from Finishing Line Press. She lives in Bellingham, Washington with her daughters, two geriatric cats, and a venerable chihuahua.

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