Divination
I dressed her wound
after the biopsy,
a scarlet braid
laced with black thread.
She was alone, but spoke of her father at her bedside
attending a bowl of water and sand,
pulling out stars.
He pinned them in her hair and stayed
until I cut the suture.
This poem has been reprinted with permission of the author. It originally appeared in Bellevue Literary Review. Stacy Nigliazzo’s book of poems, Sciccored Moon, is available now from Press 53.
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