Woke at dawn
    to the sway of lima bean bellied oak leaves.
A candied moon, full and round.
The house quiet
    the dog and cat curled
and still on the bed.
You’re there, too.
Unfazed by the rapping light,
Your pillow fortress, fortressing.

Nothing speaks,
    yet the fan hums on the credenza.
What should I be listening for?
Saturday’s paper isn’t delivered for hours.
The cafes are still closed.
What brought me from a dream
    of a searing Sapelo sun?
And you were there, too
Slicing the juiciest melon,
Southern wind in our hair,
The hour hand, cathartic—unmoving.
Another life, interrupted.

Corey Michael Hines is a Brooklyn-based writer and poet with roots spread across the American south. He received his BFA in Writing from the Savannah College of Art and Design and has been featured in Artemis, le NAVIGATEUR, and Oxford American’s Eyes on the South.