Poem of address

This is one I went back to working on when I saw Oscar's Moon. Argh: narrative. I can't get it right. Feels so... strained.




To the Man in the Moon


I did not know you'd had a stroke.
It was that night

I went to my mother's.
(I was feeling ill,

she was out of town, and her house
seemed more spacious.)

I started laundry there
I would not finish,

watched A Prairie Home Companion
with aches and chills.

I found saltines in the closet
and located the secret soda.

Dropped my stuff in my brother's old room
and decided to stay.

Bolting the porch, I saw the eclipse
was happening then. The moon

like a dull pink eraser.
I had a fitful night.

The next morning, the doctor
handed me a full course of free antibiotics

as I told him I was worried
I was not looking pretty. The fever rash

taking my face with a feathery texture.
And in my small ear canals, a temperature

climbing, beginning to scare me.
Butch, I am sorry. I can be so selfish.