Locked in a drug store. At closing time.
My mother on the eve of her eightieth birthday.
Smiles for the stranger. On the sidewalk who
takes her picture. Soon after she blows out.
All her candles.
My teenage daughter backs out. Our car nearly hits
a signpost. In the woman’s ward where she works.
A grown man. Argues, yells too close.
To the new-born baby.
A ballerina. This morning’s tour guide.
Shows how from each tall blue lamp on the campus.
A girl can aim. For the next. Then points
to the building named for. The man. Who
lept back into the.
The house cat escapes. Runs into the woods.
Where fireflies blink Look here, Look here.
We flick on flashlights. There. There.
by Therese L. Broderick
(An artist’s statement about this poem appears as the first comment.)