Late February, the darkness
ecumenical beneath the night’s new moon.
Another norther filigrees
fallen leaves and windowpanes
with a delicate, light frost.
Why draw a line between
the living and the dead
on such a night, when the darkness
within everything everywhere
One stares through a window
at the allusive, bituminous view,
a ghost of breath upon the glass,
once again the unborn child who,
after six months in the womb,
opens his eyes for the first time
and finds the comprehensive darkness
the mother holds within herself.
Todd Copeland’s poems have appeared in The Journal, High Plains Literary Review, Southern Poetry Review, Valparaiso Poetry Review, Sewanee Theological Review, The Wallace Stevens Journal, The Antigonish Review, and Columbia Poetry Review, among other publications. He won Descant’s Baskerville Publishers Poetry Award in 2018. He lives in Waco, Texas.