Regret
When moonlight slips like whispers
through the slats and the oaks
hold all the wind they can, she hears
small feet coughing on the downstairs floor,
small lungs unchoking, almost laughter.
But it’s just the creek fluting bones downstream,
just oaks muffling moonlight and wind
as they try to split in twos, or just crows
folding like sin-eaters in the eaves
and coughing just a little
as they choke this down.
Egret
Moonlight its hue. Its hue
like water on rocks. Like bone
on bone. Like bone,
like moonlight stilled.
Like moonlight on water,
fold, unfold. Like moonlight
rise. Like water on skin,
starlight on clouds, breath
of wind. Like a moon
above the stream. Whisper
its tide, its hue. Its hue.
published by H_NGM_N
Robin Reagler 