Eclipse by Bartholomew Barker

CW: Death

When darkness struck, I shivered

even though I knew exactly

when it would happen and why,

visiting my daughter's grave

for the first time.

The eclipse wasn't my fault

unlike her death and the divorce.

I had no memory of the accident.

I trusted the investigators

but my guilt was intellectual

unlike that visceral fear

in the pit of my stomach

as the umbra crossed the Earth.

I wouldn't run into her mother

that afternoon at the cemetery

resting in the path of totality.

There were others around

but just for the astronomy.

I was the one looking down.

---

Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poets in North Carolina. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit. www.bartbarkerpoet.com twitter:@bartbarkerpoet