The First Night<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
How strange it felt, to pile leaves on top
\nof my wool sweater. Tie orange sleeve to orange sleeve
\nbefore laying my head down.
\nMy brother covered my body with leaves and needles,
\nso I could be nothing worth notice
\nand warm. Food was hard to find
\nbefore we discovered roots for winter,
\nrosehips for spring. In the summer and fall
\nbounty overwhelmed us. The longings we once held
\nfor mattresses, refrigerators, lamps,
\nreplaced by lakes and loons before the sun rose.
\nKnitting scraps of wool into sweaters.
\nPraying every day, earnest words
\nto the God we could all now feel coming.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“The First Night” is reprinted from\u00a0Labletter.<\/em><\/p>\n Caitlin Elizabeth Thomson<\/a> is a Canadian who married an American. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in numerous places, including: The Literary Review of Canada, The Liner, Echolocation, Labletter,<\/a><\/em> and The Moth.<\/em> Her second chapbook Incident Reports<\/em> is forthcoming from Hyacinth Girl Press. She lives in Bellingham.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The First Night How strange it felt, to pile leaves on top of my wool sweater. Tie orange sleeve to orange sleeve before laying my head down. My brother covered my body with leaves and needles, so I could … Continue reading