Night

Daniel Moore


Troubled by the disappearance of days
she started calling me Night. Not with 
words familiar to the moon a depressing 
glitter of gray. Not with sounds fear 
would use as darkness squeezed her throat. 
When her eyes blinked the dusk in mine 
laughed in the suns cruel face, She said 
why do you close the world at 7, making 
it go to bed?
It’s hard being the book & page 
begging the kids to read, harder still to know 
which lights may not return come morning. 
Anything less than 30 watts & serotonin 
weeps so loud I put sandbags under her eyes. 
Flooding is common if the thorns in me 
bloom as the ghosts clean house.


Dear Body

Let’s talk about a preacher’s        daughter’s belly   

                                      about the bastard        beginnings of me

in Selma    in a trailer     where nightly she grew 

                                a soldier’s seed        into an Amorite’s rose.

 

She was my private       greenhouse of glory

                              I learned to                prune my beauty there  

so stranger’s would pay       to hold little boys

                           & harvest the womb    with adoption’s turbine.

                     

There the mind does what it can      to borrow & steal

                         when it can’t deal       with holes that remain

can’t change them     ignore them     or fill them with time

                                    into pastoral places        of biblical fields

                      

where judgment’s dark ink      blackens the sky

                        above tender white skin      & the Red Sea of her

& the Moses in me         find nothing miraculous

                                                                          delivered or free.


Daniel lives in Washington on Whidbey Island with the poet, Laura Coe Moore. His poems have been in Spoon River Poetry Review, Columbia Journal, Cream City Review, Western Humanities Review, Phoebe, Mid- American Review, December and others. His poems are forthcoming in Weber Review, West Trade Review, Duende Literary Journal, Isthmus Review, Yemassee Review, The Meadow, Bluestem Magazine, Coachella Review, Conclave, The Phoenix, Aurora Literary Journal, Faultline Journal of Arts & Letters, Slipstream Magazine and Barren Magazine. His chapbook "Boys," is forthcoming from Duck Lake Books (February 2020) Finalist of the Brick Road Poetry Prize for "Waxing The Dents" (April 2020) His work has been nominated for Pushcart Prizes and Best of the Net. Visit him at Danieledwardmoore.com.