I like to call mine. Instead, a thick haze
of moonlight. Just as my mother did
when she was growing old, I sit in the darkness,
getting used to how little I can see.
Showing posts with label jim moore. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jim moore. Show all posts
Saturday, 19 March 2016
saturday poem
My single star is gone, the one
I like to call mine. Instead, a thick haze
of moonlight. Just as my mother did
when she was growing old, I sit in the darkness,
getting used to how little I can see.
Jim Moore, from 'Disappearing in America' in Invisible Strings.
I like to call mine. Instead, a thick haze
of moonlight. Just as my mother did
when she was growing old, I sit in the darkness,
getting used to how little I can see.
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