COIN, BUT NO POCKET TO KEEP IT
by Mary Ann Honaker

I don’t sleep well when the moon is full,
like tonight: a headlight smeared by fog.
A star of good fortune glimmers
on the other side of the clouds
rolling over the moon like sea foam
over a bright shell. Restless today,
I walked in and out of the house,
finally got in the car and drove to town,
then aimlessly about, a bee meandering
among the dandelions. I wanted
to make honey but so many things
are sweet: forsythia, tulips, lilies,
small ornamental trees bursting brightly
in the yards of the rich I’d buzz by.

Mary Ann Honaker is the author of Becoming Persephone (Third Lung Press, 2019) and the chapbooks It Will Happen Like This (YesNo Press, 2015) and Gwen and the Big Nothing (The Orchard Street Press, 2020.) Her poems have appeared in Bear Review, Drunk Monkeys, Euphony, Juked, Little Patuxent Review,Rattle.com, Sweet Tree Review, Van Gogh’s Ear, and elsewhere. Her work has been nominated for a Pushcart prize. Mary holds an MFA from Lesley University. She lives in Beaver, West Virginia.

Image by decrand from Pixabay