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the poem in which the poet tries to describe her day
April 1, 2024
and i hold a golden
lasso, white-knuckled
and raw. to toss the rope,
to ensnare the haloed moon.
grinning and barring
sweet peach smiles
with scuffed palms.
let's say my plywood
rowboat took in water
and soaked my socks.
my fishing pole cast into the
clouds, catching cumulonimbus
and craters.
this morning
my eyes were tired,
rain-filled and heavy.
my scowl shifted yet,
tipping upwards
my lasso settled 'round the
moon.
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