A Little Song
BY KATHLEEN RADIGAN
Wesleyan University, ’17
2016 Adroit Prize for Poetry: Editors’ List
Because crickets’ throats dry up
like dunes unless they sing, the rest of us
must listen to white whistling.
All summer, petals of paint snap
off the porch steps. The sky slides
open. Pauses slip onto the grass.
My sister and I try breathing
The porch feels our breath
on its neck. It sighs
back and wind whines in our hollows.
My heart’s heat thunder. Our
ears to the sky.
Listening to stars’ quiet piles of light.
We sit and chirp for birds on power lines.
We’ll probably both be lonely for a long time.