Abundance

While standing on the balcony

with my hands on the rails at seven

minutes past seven, I look up and count

three supermoons—grayish black—

followed by a fourth that’s crescent.

Then the sun pops out, the size

of honeydew I’ve just harvested,

and waltzes round the moons.

Crowds of people arrive talking

about hunting, but I’m transfixed

by the night’s phenomenon. I 

have no name for it. There’s  meat

in my fridge, and nearby, a grocery

store I trust. I keep nudging folks

to look at the moons now dancing

in alignment with the sun.

A boyfriend I don’t remember

dating emerges to stand with me.

We watch the heavens shoulder

to shoulder, a harmonious presence

surrounding us like the infinite band

of orange light circling the moons.

Every few seconds, the celestial

bodies exchange positions.

Mildred Kiconco Barya is a North Carolina-based writer and poet of East African descent. She teaches and lectures globally, and is the author of four full-length poetry collections, most recently The Animals of My Earth School published by Terrapin Books, 2023. Her prose, hybrids, and poems have appeared in New England Review, Shenandoah, Joyland, The Cincinnati Review, Tin House, Forge, and elsewhere. She’s now working on a collection of creative nonfiction, and her essay, “Being Here in This Body”, won the 2020 Linda Flowers Literary Award and is published in the North Carolina Literary Review. She serves on the boards of African Writers Trust, Story Parlor, and coordinates the Poetrio Reading events at Malaprop’s Independent Bookstore/Café. She blogs here: www.mildredbarya.com

SISTORIES PROMPT

Write in your journal or respond in the comment section below.

The people around the narrator seem far less concerned with the magic happening in the sky. Take a look at your immediate surroundings. What simple miracles are in your vicinity?

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