Sonnet for the Knight of Cups

Danika Stegeman LeMay

You shuffle through leaves, head bowed, and conjure

autumn from what you’ve got at hand. The wind

plies the air to aster-entwined ribbons.

The stars twist in the sky, windows lit from

inside. I carry myself in segments

clacking. Parallel lines are equal but

never intersect. Our lungs fill but don’t

touch. The current can only throw arrows

one way: forward. You weep for what’s missing;

I’ll weep for what’s awake. Don’t look to me,

look to the river. The sun is rising,

and the leaves are falling to copper your

eyes. Knife’s edge I handle with no cuts, slit

the dark open. Paper the wind my way.

Danika Stegeman LeMay’s debut collection of poems, Pilot, is available from Spork Press. She lives in Minneapolis. Her work has appeared in 32 Poems, Afternoon Visitor, CutBank Literary Journal, Forklift, OH, Harpy Hybrid Review, Leavings, and Word for/ Word, among other places. Her video poem, “Then Betelgeuse Reappears” is an official selection for the 2021 Midwest Video Poetry Festival. Her website is danikastegemanlemay.com.