I can’t believe
I lost track of you.
You little dirt devil
with your million grains
of home-grown grief
sculpting the sky
like a funnel cloud.
Inspired by your beehive
of Pentecostal power
buzzing with wonder and welt,
I spoke in tongues
like a donkey on dope
as iconic aspirations
smuggled in my belly,
summered in Maine,
wintered in the south,
bought a belt
with a Bible
on sale.
Daniel Edward Moore lives in Washington on Whidbey Island. His poems are forthcoming in Notre Dame Review, Front Range Review, Iron Horse Literary Review, The Meadow, and Southern Humanities Review. He is the author of Waxing the Dents (Brick Road Poetry Press). His recent book, Psalmania was a finalist for the Four Way Books Levis Prize in Poetry.