I. Jupiters
Dayside anger splits
hydrogen and oxygen
apart. Sulks and sighs
push the two toward nightside
where tears become tears again.
II. Pink Moon
When the creeping phlox
covers the moon in crepe flush,
we pray pestilence
will pass. Spring will yield enough
crop to eat and later sow.
III. Do Luna Moths Hurry?
When life is but ten
days: one turns sage in a week.
Wide eyespots evolve.
One disdains food—thinks only:
legacy, new moon, lift, glow.
Copyright © 2025 by Antoinette Brim-Bell. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on July 7, 2025, by the Academy of American Poets.
