Catherine Gonick/poem: After

The new space between us empties everything. 

We’ve lost the furniture, no place to sit. 

It was changed, thrown out on the street—no— 

it’s still in the house where the walls just collapsed—

the furniture is in the safe room—it’s leaving 

in a big Bekins van—the furniture of untouchable 

surfaces—it meant nothing until the sun 

slammed us awake, out of a dream that erased

table and chairs. We must have passed through a night 

without noticing, failed to see the change between 

one moment and the next— that last piece of sun—

a small red arc—perched on the ocean horizon—


Catherine Gonick’s poetry has appeared in literary magazines including Notre Dame Review, Beltway Poetry Quarterly, Forge, Sukoon, and PoetsArtists, and in anthologies including in plein air, and forthcoming, Grabbed, and Poemas Antivirus. She was awarded the Ina Coolbrith Memorial Prize for Poetry and was a finalist in the National Ten-Minute Play Contest with the Actors Theatre of Louisville. She is part of a company that  helps mitigate the effects of climate change. 

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