Desert Brush by William C. Crawford
My Unfed Hunger
I slept through the death of the moon//walk dog brush dog do dog nails do my nails//I’ve ignored the moon in favor of gossiping screens//lima beans kale pasta cherries figs chips hummus//earth and us without the moon the stories future children will recite//vinegar baking soda dish soap spinach//today’s headlines with archival photos of the iconic moon posing like a Kardashian//mow lawn recharge mower rehang gate weed veggie beds clean tools//I’m so grooved to the moon’s fingers all over us closing dandelions lighting cow pastures pulling oceans//popcorn call dentist call PayPal can’t call Anne the world without Anne call Kate//already conspiracy theories the moon having an affair taking too many pills crossing Putin//return library books write opinion piece on dark chocolate research the lives of flowers on moonless planets//the sky is falling lunar calendars are falling//freeze-dried rations cases of bottled water banjo aloe squeeze powered radio//streets don’t go where I need to go we are animals crouching looking collecting lists//batteries bandaids duct tape blankets more blankets more bandaids//my own limbs in flight my unfed hunger//inflatable raft puzzles bullets tarot deck garage door opener//where is my spleen research purpose of a self-absorbed spleen I slept through the death of the moon
my conjoined
sister
About the author:
Wren Tuatha is a queer, disabled poet who earned her MFA at Goddard College. Her first collection is Thistle and Brilliant (FLP). Her poetry has appeared in Slipstream, Pirene’s Fountain, Seneca Review, Inverted Syntax, Hunger Mountain, NonBinary Review, About place Journal, and others. She’s formerly Artist-in-Residence at Heathcote Center. Wren and partner author/activist C.T. Butler herd rescue goats among the Finger Lakes of New York, where she is director of the forming Ithaca Poetry Center.
In the artist’s words:
William C. Crawford is a prolific minimalist photographer based in Winston Salem, NC.