Share54 https://www.terrain.org/mp3/2016/oct/Cohen_Poems.mp3 Night Someone was talking quietly of lanterns— but loud enough to light my way. Just Just imagining the branch as gallows makes it break. Light It looked like something you could pick up, that dagger of light. He left it there, not trusting what he might do with it. Summer, Lake You can’t fish for light, or you can, but you have to throw it back. Fellow Traveler She went everywhere with an empty suitcase. You never know when you’ll need to leave swiftly with nothing. Street Corner He asked me to hold something. I think what I held was his believing he’d be back. Birdsong There must some- where be a forest that’s lost its voice, which goes deeper and deeper into itself, its trees never seen again. Andrea Cohen’s poems have appeared in The New Yorker, The Atlantic Monthly, Poetry, The Threepenny Review, and elsewhere. Four Way Books will publish her fifth collection, Unfathoming, next year. Other recent books include Furs Not Mine and Kentucky Derby. She directs the Blacksmith House Poetry Series in Cambridge, Massachusetts and the Writers House at Merrimack College . Read poetry by Andrea Cohen previously appearing in Terrain.org. Header photo of forest with light by valiunic, courtesy Pixabay.