Daniel Edward Moore’s poems have been published in journals such as: The Spoon River Poetry Review, Rattle, Assaracus Review, Columbia Journal, American Literary Review, Mid-American Review and others. His poems are currently at Mandala, Lullwater Review, Prairie Winds, Common Ground Review, WA 129 Washington State Anthology, Sweet Tree Review, Clackamas Literary Review, New South, Birmingham Arts Journal, District Lit, Street Light Press and Picaroon Poetry Journal. He has poems forthcoming in Tule Review, december Magazine, Natural Bridge, Scalawag Magazine, 2 Bridges Review and Big Windows Review. He lives in Washington on Whidbey Island. His recent book, Confessions Of A Pentecostal Buddhist, can be found on Amazon. His work has also been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Visit Daniel at Danieledwardmoore.com
is so tired of you,
the sound of your name
makes them heavy with acquaintance.
Heavy as in a metal jock strap
protecting them from longing.
Heavy as in when hearing hello
their spine becomes a cobra.
Remind me, again, why my hand
cut a hole in your throat:
object removal, a flower vase,
a window your heart could
escape through at night
to teach the world a lesson?
Tenderness rarely occurs to me
at the hour you shame the moon,
turning it yellow as a caution light,
where you decide you can’t decide
if you have the power to shine.
I wish the end were different,
beauty blooming instead of rocks
in a grave beneath your chin,
words falling down the stem of your neck
in the window of a store on a street we loved
where faces stopped to listen.