WHY DO YOU TITLE YOUR POEMS IN ALL-CAPS, AREN’T YOU SICK OF YELLING?
hollers the moon. We’ve cleared our calendars to catch up over drinks. Two blocks from the bar, I almost step in a pile of shit, but my girl the moon sics her flashlight on it. I say, “You’re looking very buxom tonight.” Moon says THANKS BITCH. In our friendship, Thursday is the weekend, so I turn away when she lights her cigarette. When Moon & I were in a sorority together, the frat next door trapped a coyote in their sandpit. We put a ladder out so it could escape becoming a muse. Moon forgives all the wolves that howl at her, says CAN’T BLAME A DOG FOR TRYING. Once, I sat in the passenger seat of my desire. Conversation hurled itself onto the highway billboard, whizzing us by. I barked so hard my fur became a suit of bees. I’m reapplying my Fenty Beauty Flyliner for the fourth time & Moon is blowing air at the corner of my eyes to help it dry, murmurs I CAN TELL WHERE YOU’LL START THE REWRITE. I’m tired of saying the quiet parts out loud.
