In mist’s gray cloak
Outside it is spitting rain,
which turns to ice and coats the streets.
echo of your sister’s boots
down alleys where cats
fight nightly in fur and lust.
A black-haired girl
with moonstone eyes
she has left your father’s house,
climbed until rivers turned to silver thread.
Above unbroken clouds
fish leap through a sea of stars.
Steve Klepetar's work has received several nominations for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. His chapbook, My Son Writes a Report on the Warsaw Ghetto, was recently published by Flutter Press.