Dusk to Dawn

As the evening burns
to dusk, its glowing embers
flushed across the sky,

we fill our bellies with
sharp wine and bitter words
spill into the scorched air

between us. Lines are drawn,
guy ropes taut with blame,
designed to trip us in the

silence. Words are written on
the body, red welts under
eyes, shoulders slumped in

shades of pink and orange,
descending into darkness.
In the moon’s quiet presence,

just a canvas width away,
our son’s breath rises
and falls, the before and

after, blood red sky and
silver shards of night that
scatter in the glint of dawn.

…

Fiona McPhillips is a journalist and author of two books. Her work has appeared in The Honest Ulsterman, The Galway Review, Litro, Brilliant Flash Fiction and other publications. She is currently studying for an MA in Creative Writing at Dublin City University. You can find her at @fionamcp