Construction Literary Magazine

Fall 2020

When The Time Came

When The Time Came
Photograph via Flickr by Ryan.Berry
When The Time Came

hope was my dangerous plan
outlined by sketches in notebooks
visible under the full moon.

Almost like before, how
he knew to call it sunlight
to call it a word
when it was just warmth moving.

Eventually they found us,
scattering evergreen seeds
when snow came.
I froze holding a garden hoe
and a doorjamb,
trying to remember which one
would bring his mother back.

My son survived.
They carried him over their shoulders
to safety. Tea with whiskey. Plenty.
Whether his father was alive
or not, the night had arrived
to drink with men.