Maxine Patroni

In Winter

In the shower,
we’re alone

together.
Fog veiled

over blue
shutters.

Inside:
we unravel.

One slender stroke
then miracles

of salt.
Moon-soured,

night enters
then lifts

to bend grasses
westward—

too bland
this house.

Our wet cuts,
traces

we touched
and meant it.

Something
in our blood

quelled too long,
hums.

A towel across
the mirror

the only prayer
after

the crying
stops.

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Maxine Patroni graduated with an MFA in Poetry from New York University where she was the Teachers and Writers Fellow. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in The Literary Review, Greensboro Review, Allegheny Review and elsewhere.