Poet of the MonthrbdJanuary 05, 2022Enikő Vághy, poet of the month, poetry

Enikő Vághy: January 2022 Poet of the Month

Poet of the MonthrbdJanuary 05, 2022Enikő Vághy, poet of the month, poetry

Property

Tonight, the bungalow across the street,
its porch light on for no reason, not even
the body of a stray cat curled beneath it,
I close the blinds, check the locks, return
to bed where you will wake me, brother,
staring through the black of 3 AM, your
presence more unsettling than the slow
creak of a door. Five months, and every
night these meetings. Visits I called them
when I still believed in God, lifted my arms
to the sky, received only air. Now I cross
them over my chest, wonder how many times
it was you [the plastic bottle, the dry leaf
pulled from its branch] who tripped the sensor,
alerted me to the recognizable in nothing.
A light lit for emptiness is a joke. If this is true,
then all you’ve done is prank me. Played
the child you never were, pressed a ghost
hand to my face. Or maybe, you’ve come
looking in on me the way people look in
on old houses. Trying all the knobs, a window
opened to let the cold night in. Before they leave,
a test of the lights. Brief reminder of living,
or whatever the house used to do.

Enikő Vághy is a poet and reviewer whose work has been recognized by the Academy of American Poets College Prize in the graduate division. She is currently a PhD student in the Program for Writers at the University of Illinois at Chicago.

rbd