tiptoes like grief
up the stairs of
summer’s hot spine,
witnessing autumn’s
addiction to color,

like mysterious gestures
from a preacher’s hand
training the young
to worship the sky
by leaving the body behind.

In the story
they wrote their
own version of,
there were no words
for moments like this

when love’s lips,
waxed with suffering,
melted without malice.

Daniel Edward Moore lives in Washington on Whidbey Island. His work is forthcoming in I-70 Review, Tar River Poetry Journal, Sierra Nevada Review, South Florida Poetry Journal, Bryant Literary Review and The Museum of Americana. His book, “Waxing the Dents,” is from Brick Road Poetry Press.