We cast curses at the moon,
watch its face travel over then behind clouds,
then come to the fore
as if beckoned
when it most certainly was not.
Booze and blackberries on the front porch
and the cries of dead beasts and warriors out there.
Imagine it Hold it in your head
as you do song lyrics and prayers.
The strange scents of late nights
call us to remember our weaknesses
and the ill will we’ve encountered in others.
We talk of these things bring them closer.
And oh the madness of this porch how it dares to receive
our complaints and our compliances how it
rests under our flip-flops and naked toes how it
shifts under spilled sweet tea and dripped foam
off cans of Bud Light
Does it make you grin that I’ve said this?
So, the moon hovers and we here below
pull it over us, imagine it soft when in truth
it’s dense as a mango dum dum.
Inside, we look for rest knowing our mendacity
could pull down the stars knowing our joys
are simple masks for grudges
the way they jibe
My God The way we consume bitterness
fill our plates, pour on gravies
and sauces of fear and then
dare to sleep on that repletion.
Martina Reisz Newberry’s recent books: NEVER COMPLETELY AWAKE (Deerbrook Editions), and TAKE THE LONG WAY HOME (Unsolicited Press).Widely published, she was awarded residencies at Yaddo Colony for the Arts, Djerassi Colony for the Arts, and Anderson Center for Disciplinary Arts.
Martina lives in Los Angeles with her husband, Brian.