a forecasted rain that hadn’t fallen
a chorus of crickets filling the silence
on the front steps

                  the dull ache of an assumed dead end

she told me to count to three & swallow
whatever I was about to say
so I closed my eyes and started:

                        one…                 two…

then opened them                   softly    before the three
the way a skydiver does before jumping
            to survey the scene or take inventory
                         of a life while reciting a prayer

before I could inhale or practice acceptance of what might come nextI saw straight through to darkening skies

which is to say there was nothing between me & them
            nothing in the shape of her
                   to block my view

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Nicholas Olah has self-published four poetry collections, Where Light Separates from Dark, Which Way is North, Seasons, and You Are Here. Olah’s work appears or is forthcoming in Humana Obscura, The Poetry Lighthouse, Thimble Literary Magazine, Moss Puppy Magazine, Door Is A Jar Literary Magazine, and more. Olah’s poem, “On the Drive Home”, won third place in The Poetry Lighthouse Prize in spring 2025. Check out more of his work on Instagram at @nick.olah.poetry.