Catherine Moore is the author of three chapbooks including the recent Wetlands (Dancing Girl Press). Her work appears in Tahoma Literary Review, Cider Press Review, Southampton Review, Caesura, Mid-American Review, and various anthologies. A Walker Percy fellow, she also won the Southeast Review’s 2014 Gearhart Poetry Prize and was awarded a Nashville MetroArts grant. Catherine earned a Master of Fine Arts from the University of Tampa and she teaches at a local college. She is tweetable @CatPoetic.
Frogpondians
This is an argument against transcendentalism. Light of the morning ends with weighty mourning. Dank forest of sorrow. In black squall each oak becomes flea haven. Like mange that moves the dog into pond. From drops of poison toads turns a medicine drip. If I am a tumor, you are insistent fingers. When you are wound, I am sweated salve. Where doctors are called, hoodoo instead. This mind virus. Cloaked mysticism. A vapid metaphor that fails to run through flesh. We are minions of the moon. We bet the devils in our heads, knowing a miniature cell may infect the whole.