a beautiful hours, very well
and richly illuminated. The yahrzeit candle
beats its yellow heart
all night, and the next morning
the ginkgo loses all of its leaves
at once. In 185 AD,
Chinese astronomers witnessed
what they called a guest star
that appeared in the sky and lingered
for eight months, the first documented
observation of a supernova, death
of a distant star. After his mother
died, my father arrived at her house
to find only a thimble
on the windowsill, erect
as a nipple. And when he
died, I found hanging, dry stone
in his shed, a shrink-wrapped
T-bone steak. Item: I saw
the swallowtail butterfly pull nectar
down its throat from the bush
called butterfly, watched its pages flutter
on that windless day until a passing
robin snapped them shut. As if opening
a book, they'll pull back the sheet
from my chest to find, where a pair of
pink doves once blinked, two
eyebrows, raised.
Angie Estes
About the poet
Michigan Quarterly Review
Fall 2012






