Elusive Moon
 
The cold night sky holds
no clue, offers no lead
I can follow. I think
you could be skulking
in high black branches. Perhaps
you’re right behind me
in this unlit alley, silently
stepping as I step,
or that lumpish shape crouched
near a rusting dumpster
half a block over.
You could be shadow-masked
in a deep recessed doorway
right across the road.
Something flies up rattling
those branches—is it you? Maybe
I should look in the lint
in my jacket pocket; you might
pop out and slip away.
I’m at a loss while you travel along
out of sight.
 
 © Jody Larson 2021
First published in Poetry Quarterly, Issue 46, Summer 2021

(Three short poems)

​
draped around my neck
on red silk, this gold medal
feels like a harness




Love is not fragile
or tender. Love hoists boulders,
bursts dams, uproots trees




Cottontail bunnies, oblivious,
graze my weedy-lawn salad bar
unconsciously social-distancing.




© Jody Larson
First poem published in Haiku Journal #62
Second poem published in Haiku Journal #59
Third poem published in Three Line Poetry #54