Late Snow

written by Daniel Moore

When less became more & care, corrupt,
& white existentialist bubbas with pens

bounced words through heart shaped hoops
sweating an assassin’s bullet for brains

sweating praise for pushers of fear
all swaggered & daggered in dominant duds

as the latest gospel of good old boy chew
choked on tenderness torn apart by a lack

of blood from breath to hand, to the
alphabet’s pulse quiet as ice, melting in

the back of the throat. That kind of blue
from a drop in O2, like a late snow in

Georgia, brighter than white, freezing
the flesh till its black.

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

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