Before the L

The man's dry fingers clench her
sunshine yellow parka, white-knuckled,
on a crowded subway platform.
She is young. All around them, travelers
hug their coats and shuffle like specters:
ashen, alone.

In northern Alaska, lichens grow under rocks
to escape the winter. The landscape dries up
and freezes, and for thirty days, the sun falls
below the earth.

Between her feet, a suitcase waits: its vinyl
flesh furled, locks broken. Beneath the stones,
the lichens begin to starve.

She is a departing star, a life-giver.
He wants to endure but is afraid,
clutching the sun with desperate hands.
Tomorrow it will rise, he says.
Tomorrow is all he knows.

K. Thomas Elzy © 2006.