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 |