“somewhere between
allentown and knoxville,”
(the final directive from the gas station
attendant to the dazed and confused pizza
hut delivery driver)
the moon rises.
an aborted spring storm
is steeled away in the trolley track viaducts
transporting the detritus artifacts of earrings,
tears and starling feathers
past cemeteries clinging to stars
and the mighty silent Mon River
where we used to listen
 
 

© Rick Forman