Issue No. 14, Autumn 2015

Summer Shades
Amy Durant

Night shift:
I see my lost ones
every lonely 2 a.m.
sitting on the neighbor’s
patio in the dark.

They are silent, dark
and stuttersilver; they
flicker in and out with
the moon.
They are shadow,
not substance.

To directly look at them
is to make them disappear.

I leave them offerings
in the grass; a
pewter teapot, a pillow
filled with pine, a snarl
of copper wire, a faded
photograph, a guitar
pick chipped at the edge.

The silence is a blanket.
I see the corner of a
housecoat, the flash
of a hand, a sidelong look.

They’re waiting.
The lost have nothing
but time.

They are here for me.
One night I will weave amongst them
tickle their ankles
like a cat come home
and, clinking like a tinker
loaded with her trinkets,
I, too, will fade
into the periphery.


Amy Durant lives in upstate New York and works as a copyeditor and social media editor for the Watertown Daily Times. She has a Bachelor’s Degree in Creative Writing from Binghamton University. Her poetry and non-fiction has been published in a number of print and online publications, and her book of poetry, Out of True, was published in 2012.

  • This is a beautiful poem! Both bleak and colourful. We will all go to become shadows. And when we do, the world disappears a little.