Featured: At Night

Lucia Cherciu

It rained all night. In the dark, from her window,

she saw somebody fall, curse, mumble,

look for something, dig through the mud

and give up when he figured out he was holding

horse dung. He left.


She threw the curtain back and went to sleep.

In the morning when the light broke with the roosters,

she opened the gate softly and in the muck on the road

she saw something glitter.


She bent and picked it up: somebody’s

full set of teeth.

She washed them at the tap in the yard

and tied them in a handkerchief.


For a week, she made it a habit

to walk. She picked a distaff with wool

and started spinning down the road

stopping to listen at gates in the evening

when people gathered.


She didn’t ask anyone.

She started crossing out

the men she knew wouldn’t go to the pub

for fear somebody would laugh,

until she figured him out.


She didn’t talk to him.

In the morning, she put his teeth in a box

and left them at his door:

no crickets, no fireflies, no larks,

no dawn choirs yet.


Listen to the poem here:


LuciaCherciuPromotionalPhotographApril2015Lucia Cherciu is a Professor of English at SUNY / Dutchess Community College in Poughkeepsie, NY and her latest book of poetry is Edible Flowers (Main Street Rag, 2015). Her poetry has been nominated twice for a Pushcart Prize and for Best of the Net.

Her web page is luciacherciu.webs.com.