Somewhere, PA

Between two pieces of glass collects a condensation that cannot be rubbed away and so she pauses to watch it dissipate beneath the sun. “There is no resolution” she reminds herself— a wait with no foreseeable end. A weight so profoundly heavy in her chest. This is grief and it penetrates her dreams, permeates the waking day as well as the retreat of sleep. She believes that with time the skewed silhouettes of the world will appear clearer, will hold pronounced against the recurring picturesque sky of summer mornings. She looked upward the night prior and saw stars, and underneath them she slept. She thanked the universe for reminding her that she is small.