2 Poems by Lynn Finger

1

The moon is sleepy & tangled in leaves

I call for help. Clouds float over,

cold & dirty, no maps for miles.

I pass an old gas pump that someone

wrote their name on. I hear you

call out, a raven with one wing.

Threaded together, we soar, wounds

hold wounds, we are textured &

seen. Drained wind flattens

hearts of gold-wrapped candy,

what else are we but ashes

of our own burning.

We rearrange the boxes

that cached puzzles like we

did, useful, at least not empty.

Stars buttered on the sideboard,

scattered lies in a never-ending

fall. The morning after, I lie

under husks & monsters.

I stroke the feathers lathed

from your single wing.

What have we done to

each other?

2

The ghost horse grazes

on hibiscus across the street.

He is translucent as a promise,

reflects a garage, an owl, a telephone

pole, the carousel, a mime, the path

to zero. It is the day before

sunset, the last that will tear

the light from the sky, a blood

rose crushed from a bush.

The owl hoots hollow from

a branch. I watch you go & don’t

call you back. It takes nothing

to realize you need less, life

is greedy to remind. It doesn’t

matter my lips were sewn

shut. The wind lacerates

the ghost horse’s shadow.

How badly do you want

the truth? He is invisible,

but I see him, so

I must be too.