Too Many Moons

Too many poems, too many moons now. 
Too many rivers and stars,
too much light and night.
Delete grief. Take away love, regret, 
and boozy fathers. Erase aged hands.
Delete all that seems
and keep the white chickens. 
Add an hour of daylight savings—
in it, disallow silence, singing.
Add scarlet mushrooms, the color 
of newts with splayed toes.
Take away the drowned Ophelia.
Add Sasha, who bicycles her daughter 
in an oversized helmet to preschool. 
Take away Brahms. No. Keep Brahms, 
the late intermezzos, pianissimo 
passages that need to prove nothing.
Outside, build a hotel of leaves and stones 
to help ladybugs endure the winter.
Advertise said hotel in the guest bedroom, 
where they crawl heat-drunk and confused. 
Leave out Persephone, the snake, Orpheus, 
the garden and Eve. Begin again.

Read more from Issue 20.2.