Shoot the Moon

I'm halfway down and the sky
turns silver. Cotton-cold ice
becomes skeins of ghosts twisting around my legs,
dissolving into moonlight. The air

Doesn't sting and sing, but slides
past fur. I would chase the geese,
drooling at the moment of fat and feathes
but wolves don't have wings. Only claws

Suddenly too short to reach the cord.
Howling in the sky. I can only pray that
I land on my paws.

You brought me squash seeds for our anniversary.

Yesterday, I looked you up in the dictionary:
an antonym for brown socks. Our friend
hinted to your offer.

What fairy
attempts to mend
a five hundred page dictionary?

From across the fruit plate your hair
descends
like a Duncan bark as we astronaut him to Jupiter.

Love, where have you been? I am drinking cooking sherry
I am lying on the floor. Lend
your ears to the mailbox.

Everyday you eat mango pickle. We share
a bowl of squash soup. Send
a boat to Jupiter

and bring back those figs I love. Dare
me. I’ll ask for a treat. Pretend
we are not lovers and see what you get. I’ll use

kitty litter as kindling. We started
as a villanelle and now I smell s’mores.

Zombies!

Zombies!
She wanted to have Thanksgiving Dinner

Living in a red
oak is better than being
undead.

I always wanted
to be like Swiss Family
Robinson. Riding

ostriches. But
there are no
ostriches here.

Five years
ago when the dead
broke

from their graves;
riding escalators
down hungry. Up hungry.

I blew my mother’s head
to bits. Sophocles was right:
I want to be the hero.

I have a family now.
A husband, a baby, a cat
named William

S. Burroughs. No one
gets my jokes. I want to write
letters to my old friends.

I saw Tim yesterday eating
a gas attendant’s
arm. I’m not afraid

of opossums anymore.
We didn’t make it out west
but we’re close enough

We’ll move in thirty days. It takes
thirty-one to find us. I miss the movies

the most. Having sex
in the dark
second.