First Lightning

Big Dipper rises
over the Polygon, lights
of Kurchatov hazing in the distance
like the shadow of a bomb.  The arms
of the woman glisten as she washes
her daughter in the sink, cupping
her face with one hand, turning
the blank eyes, the body bent
like a W, toward the candlelight.
Later, she will feed her from a porcelain
mug, the close-shaved
head tipped back in her arms.
Later, she will blame herself
for the fallout in her womb.  Outside
in the sunlight, the girl’s eyes
are so brown they could be red.
She cannot feel the frost
in the air.  She cannot feel
her mother.  The bells of the church
clank, pulled by ropes
in a dead woman’s hand.
Across the river bridge,
a man with a melted face
plays the piano, plays
opera, smokes a cigarette
in the snow. In a house near
the old airport, a father
is bathing his man-son before
work. And a nurse rocks
a blind baby while another
is lifted toward the window,
toward the glaring light.

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Alyse Knorr is an alum of Elon University and is currently pursuing her MFA at George Mason University, where she also serve as a faculty member in the English department. Her work has been published in the Albion Review, the North Central Review, Colonnades, Vision Magazine, and more than a dozen newspapers across the country.