Happiness Comes | Rachel Barton

$ 7.00


what you have to get over is the color pink
the way stink bugs clink against a glass door
the nasal twang of the news commentator
his comb-over his too red tie

but could you tell me why
you keep putting the moon in your poems
always on the rise and full
what tide or quirk of gravity allows you
to tread water across the horizon
approaching one full moon after another
tethered to the page your poem
shines like a bright orb floating
just beyond my comprehension

like a river at night her hair
spills across her pillow
from the pale moon of her face
black silk on soft white cotton
a braided river across the plain
dark waters a tangle of brambles
she pulls it along into her dreams
reshaping landscapes with a tender
exhalation from her parted lips

what you have to get over is the need to know
forecasts of turbulence histories of loss
blue and jagged as the ragged height of musk thistle
the silvery sheen of moonlight on water
hair and lips and the sound of her breath
in her sleep…
the heartsong of your every day
like a wealth of dandelion gold