Now as the sun, dipped into the depths

fallen toward darkness,

begins to climb back up

each notch of your spine

from her low angle across the sky,

as if from the underworld, yours.

Now perhaps we can, too,

do this returning from such depths.

Now our lips can part,

drink deep of that light returning,

slowly, say it is finished.

Now all my bones can, too,

come back together from these

years that broke.

31poemsMegan Jones