Beneath a half-eaten Poptart
on the car seat lies the all-important
Her lopsided smile pulls
to the right, balancing the cowlick
left of her temple. Her collar
is unbuttoned, tangled hair
could use a prettier bow. At any moment,
her silly image will be burned
into the cosmos forever.
It's picture day.
It's not the realization
that reels on morning's breeze.
It's not the balanced tear
as she slowly tilts her head.
It's not the heaviness of evening
against her breast.
It's the small glow of hope
in the slope of a midnight moon.
About the author:
My poetry has been published several magazines including, The Boston Literary Magazine, Sage Trail, The New Formalist,and Moondance.
© 2011 Word Riot