written by Daniel Moore
Fascinated by your moving parts,
the life undone by a crime unsolved,
how it worships the body’s unforgivable stain,
sprawled out & spread open on a stranger’s glass.
Isn’t this why the blood’s crimson story
is able to tell the truth I can’t, or maybe I won’t?
Either way, your true confessions
lock me up in a calcium cell guarded by other’s lies.
Of course, you, darling, need no one’s permission
to make the body a hostile accomplice
at any suspicious scene. You’re turned on by
the needle’s tongue pricking my conscience to speak
Daniel Moore lives in Oak Harbor, Washington on Whidbey Island. His poems are forthcoming in Weber Review, Cultural Weekly, Tule Review, Poetry South, January Review Plainsongs, The Cape Rock, Artifact Nouveau, Panoplyzine, The American Journal of Poetry, and Gyroscope Review. His chapbook, “Boys,” was recently released from Duck Lake Books. His first book, “Waxing the Dents,” was a finalist for the Brick Road Poetry Book Prize and was released in February 2020. Visit him at danieledwardmoore.com