Scott Simpson · Poetry

This late winter moon

Selected Poems 1989 to 2009 · source pages 228

The original line breaks, stanza spacing, and placement are preserved. Long lines scroll horizontally.

Source page 228

is the Indian-head nickel

I slipped into the split

ticking of Grandmother's bed

a secret, sliding

in among clumps of batting

stolen

I thought,

cotton, hay, dust

tumbling to the floor

as I ripped the tear wider

to possess that shining

face of silver

Nearly lost the moon is

a dull glow

among dark clouds

thunder, rain

tossing, turning me

shaking down

the brighter dreams

they jingle among

the rusty bedsprings