Moon, Keep Setting Back Clocks
       

Sometimes I feel, sometimes I don't, sometimes
I feel like a motherless child. When mom
was here I loved her, wanting out. No time
ever did I want her to leave. Please come
again tonight. I'll cook for you. We'll foxtrot
all over the house. Dad, you come too,
as Frost would say. Robert Frost, I miss you,
our lunch in Middletown. I'll set the clocks
so time will have a fit and let us be.
I'm cold tonight. Winter has sweatered me.
I'm hot as blazes through connections with
the catalog of blood and friends who make
me feel so full yet motherless. The shake
of snowy bells wakes me. I leave for myth.

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Copyright © 2014 Willis Barnstone All rights reserved
from Moonbook and Sunbook
Tupelo Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission