Share https://www.terrain.org/mp3/2016/oct/Cohen_Poems.mp3NightSomeone was talking quietly of lanterns—but loud enough to light my way. JustJust imaginingthe branch as gallowsmakes it break. LightIt looked like something you could pick up, thatdagger of light. He left it there,not trusting what he might do with it. Summer, LakeYou can’t fish for light, oryou can, but you have tothrow it back. Fellow TravelerShe went everywhere with an empty suitcase.You never know when you’ll need to leaveswiftly with nothing. Street CornerHe asked me to hold something. I thinkwhat I held was his believinghe’d be back. BirdsongThere must some- where be a forestthat’s lost its voice, which goesdeeper and deeper into itself, itstrees 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.