LAST FULL MOON IN IOWA
Sirens in the east, moving towards some tragedy, and
who would commit a murder under a moon like this?
Who would break anything, a window, a skull, knowing
she was watching from above? I have bronchitis
again—too many smokes and nights not knowing
what color socks you’re wearing, whether
you remember my smell. Hours wheezing, wondering
what bad jokes I’ve been mumbling in my sleep.
Do dogs howl at the moon or to each other?
Did you know how much I love you is why
I wash my hands? Someday when I’m better
I’ll read you a list of things you became to me:
runway, poltergeist, mourning dove, splint, in hopes
you’ll kiss my sternum, crack the same ribs as before.
Jackson Burgess is the author of Atrophy (forthcoming, Write Bloody Publishing) and Pocket Full of Glass (2017, Tebot Bach), winner of the Clockwise Chapbook Competition. He is a graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop and has placed work in The Cincinnati Review, The Cimarron Review, Rattle, Colorado Review, and elsewhere (jacksonburgess.com).
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