I Wake and Feel the Fall

In the middle of the afternoon I wake and feel

the fall of dark — the shadow on the dogwood

and the shortening of days. It is easier to say

things to the facelessness of crowded places full

of light. You can kill the thing you cherish in a

thousand different ways. In my dream I got

your name wrong; would you leave me if you knew?

In your place there are a thousand other faces

and I don’t know what to say. Long ago you gave

me something from the darkness to hold onto

through the failing of the springtime, through

dimming of our faces — would you make a last

appearance and remind me what it is? You can

kill the thing you’re scared of if you let it walk

you home, if you let it come in close enough —

enough to feel your breath. In my dream I

didn’t know you and you laid down on my bed.

Shannon Lise

Originally from Texas, Shannon Lise lived in Turkey for twelve years and is currently located in Qu├ębec City. She is a 2020 Pushcart Prize nominee and recent work has appeared in The Sunlight Press, Sandy River Review, Rising Phoenix Review, Foundling House, The Ekphrastic Review, Tiny Spoon and Ink in Thirds.

NOVUS Literary and Arts Journal
Lebanon, TN