Jen Reid

O my holy God
she said aloud
as her breath escaped visible
the cold shadow
of the O that was her mouth
and the new moon
slivered its way out of the tree shadows
and formed a halo of itself
against the sky.
All that she'd left behind
all that she'd return to
was absent
in that air
on a mountain
in Butte, Montana
and the stars, too,
were making their way
from the dark.

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