William Keckler
Aug 27, 2023

The fingernails on a stone windowsill,
the things we say to each other in dreams.

Not you, not me. The stone sill is slate-still,
facing the city not a city now.

Slate dreams in a one room schoolhouse
where no one will return but moonlight

and the things moonlight says
in its voice of buried chalk.



William Keckler

Writer, visual artist. Books include Sanskrit of the Body, which won in the U.S. National Poetry Series (Penguin).