by NATASHA PEPPERL
Ceremony of a Relocation in Fall
After Donika Kelly
The sun reaches through the bare
window and fingers the cardboard
boxes and wakes us early.
The boy sleeping downstairs
stacked and carried all the boxes
inside with my husband.
Now the boy is lying
in the dirt of a field we see the tattered
edge of our front porch.
Now the boy is an unopened
box lying in a hospital bed
with a swelling head.
Now the boy has been opened
— a harvest. Someone lies
with his lung, another with his heart,
somebody with his right eye
as the sun reaches through
the bare.
From Issue 6
NATASHA PEPPERL’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in Appalachian Review, The Meadow, The Maynard, The Anti-Languorous Project, and elsewhere. She hosts Just As Special, a foster care podcast focused on diversity, and is the daughter of an Iranian refugee. Read more of Natasha’s poetry at CeremoniesOfFamily.com.
Photo by Jeremy Thomas on Unsplash