JUICE MOON

How I fell all five eggs. Eggs as years.

Felt the hemisphere overturned,
the blonde dog breaking in two.

Who’s keeping you sharp? Not the garden gnomes.

Bright tendermellons,
rhubarb squares at your block eyes.

Hens camp on the porch, our dearness hangs in the trees.

I walked home and found you here.
Part mine, sour phantom. Part something good.

You gave me a handful of roses that laughed up at me.

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from DOOM GLOVE–published by Prroblem Press

Buy it here

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Kimberly Lambright lives in Brooklyn and is the author of Doom Glove (Prroblem) and Ultra-Cabin (42 Miles Press).