Tuesday, November 13, 2018

Tuesday poem #293 : Catherine Cafferty : Coupling constellations

The green leafy gaze, a loon on
the lake.

By night mice in a dish, when the torch
is on. And squirrels want fireside.

I cut into the tip of my finger the first
day, need layers when I enter the

A death among reeds, we watch
at nothing for nearly an hour.

The dragonflies multiple by midday,
prism-like water below us.

I dream of the canoe rocking, arms
a tilted windmill, yet word is I’m working

The moon casts over the islands tonight,
black pitch made sun white by tomorrow.

This cedar and soil portage, now useless
with a map of water.

Goggled liked a child, survey the moss-
covered stones, a fish.  I swim.

Catherine Cafferty is a poet living in Brooklyn, NY. She holds a BA in literature from McGill University, an MA in English from San Francisco State University, and an MFA from The Iowa Writers' Workshop. She currently is the co-director of literacy for The Partnership for Inner-City Education in NYC.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

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