of orange that lay before
the woodstove like a rug.
Charred cinnamon
scent of warmth, that lick
of gold, as much or more
than what it touched—
kids who smelled of salt
and the metallic tang
of Winter leading us
through Fall like dogs.
Winds that run their paws
on water, hounding
barnacled islands.
Sonorous darkness
of the sea
when the sun
is burning another
hemisphere. Girl
grown in the grey
diffusion of light
pollution will not
not fall for the heat
of the only light in sight
within radius of every
concealed horizon,
nor its contents.
Constance Hansen’s poetry and reviews have recently appeared or are forthcoming in Harvard Review, Four Way Review, Southern Humanities Review, Northwest Review, River Mouth Review, Volume Poetry, Psaltery & Lyre, EcoTheo Review, Moist Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. She is the Assistant Managing Editor of Poetry Northwest. Constance lives with her family in Seattle, where she teaches poetry at the Hugo House.
