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One Morning in Spearfish, South Dakota by Marko Capoferri

Nov 6, 2025

remember you gave up drinking to better recollect the morning at the end of August the light so simple as to require validation that cottonwood leaves shocked themselves into flaming banter with the day faulting the dual darknesses of what’s been and what’s to come after all everything whittles down to those hours that seem to hold their breath remember you opened your motel door and spoke to the woman the next room over whose Minnesota plates and shiftlessness gave a sense of flight from a life half-revoked whether hers or yours is impossible to say at this late hour in the snows of this latitude remember she said: some years you pass through blind and some pass through you like a blade but that morning the light was so full of its failure to be anything more than itself yes it was that far from the solstice further still from the next beyond the nearby rush of blacktop there were horses in summer-stilled grass kicking up sun if there were mountains somewhere they were quiet about it you want to believe that woman made it somewhere beyond doubt that she be more than urgency or statistic remember the past tense is always perfect often continuous dust motes that danced before the mind bright enough to be mistaken for now
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