2 June 2004 | Vol. 4, No. 2
Prelude to a Hug
It was the expectant month. The rivers rose as fast as they fell. One morning the cherry trees were freckled with something like green blood. There were the usual hardships and joys, and often they felt quite unusual. We could have been sticks swept from their places on the bank, forgetting the leaves with which we endured winter. Shadows, I told my wife, are how the sun practices its nouns. All of them are not singular. Sorry, nature boy, you'll have to ride the starship by yourself today, she said. Earth goddess has scheduled a nose job. Get some breakfast made.
About the author:
Thorpe Moeckel won the 2000 Gerald Cable Book Award for his collection Odd Botany (Silverfish Review Press, 2002). He is also the author of a chapbook of poems entitled Meltlines (Van Doren & Co., 1999). He lives in North Carolina.
For further reading:
See the complete list of work by Thorpe Moeckel at 42opus. Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 4, No. 2, where "Prelude to a Hug" ran on June 2, 2004. List other work with these same labels: poetry, prose poem.
