Capture                                                                          —Daniel Edward Moore

Need your body said    was something        I could change
the way desire’s wings        destroys a nest       with hunger,

the way you beheld me    in the weather    of your words
like fur      in fields on fire                  praying to your rain.

Remarking on your innocence       enough to make     me guilty
enough to make         the gavel    made of cotton     made of snow

blizzard through me nightly    as salt        melted my mind,
there in blackened puddles       every nerve       called you winter,

every nerve       called me summer        as in tropical     & burned
as in morphine    found a pump to        make my thumb a question.

Does this explain the heart’s    spasm of departure       trampling
on the intimate of    everything bestowed              the countless &

careless beats poorly played      the choice     to still adore you  
                    with    my heart’s v-fib-ulation?     It’s true    I felt nothing      

revived by pretty paddles     the way a breathless songbird     beating
beauty silly        sings a psalm of      capture        all cardiac and caged.

Daniel Edward Moore

Daniel lives in Washington on Whidbey Island. His poems have been in Spoon River Poetry Review, Rattle, Columbia Journal, Western Humanities Review, and others. His book Confessions of a Pentecostal Buddhist, can be found on Amazon. Visit Daniel at

ISSN 2472-338X
© 2018