Listen to Abigail Dembo read “The Night and Its Boat.”

A woman knocks on the door,
with blood on her face, she knocks on your door.

She comes, the night having put her in its wooden boat,
having taken out its long stick
to bring her to you.

The river closes its eye to this.
The moon quiets its mouth.

A woman knocks on your door
with a drop of blood, with a drop of blood.

The night has steered her
across its river of Narcissus flowers.

The cricket closes its eyes.
The star bites down on a piece of leather.

Now it is just you and the woman,
the blood, the drop of blood,
on the other side of your door.

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