Night Came and I Rang Too

Night came cranberry, red spilling
into water, into tree feathers, into
the skelter, all helter, of raven song.
A croak past curfew.

Night came indigo, came blur
between today and then,
and I watched it come, creeping
elbow over heel.

Night came lemon, sour and
pulling cheeks into skeleton.
I came, too, howling into memory,
into hand, like the transplant I am.

Reece Gritzmacher lives among ponderosa pines in Flagstaff, Arizona, but grew up in Portland, Oregon. Their work has appeared on Poets.org, Sundog Lit, Another Chicago Magazine, tiny wren lit, and elsewhere. They hold an MFA in Creative Writing from Northern Arizona University.