by Ryan Downum
Lately, I’ve been splitting the moon in two.
I’ve been putting chalk in my worn-down
mouth. All over town small patches
of green hum. Commotion
a startled ambulance. What one throws away so
another can find. One’s desire to be an ocean,
to sleep inside a fire’s torn mouth.
How simple this all is. How simple to open
up a heart and pull at its delicate stitching.