A missing love letter
lost, hidden under a flower
when the moon was a mouthy
revolutionary, its paper unfolding
from yellow petals, its words,
a design meant only for you.
All of the cyclones of this life,
sharp curve hip of color and line.
The words we hear and don’t,
the sound, the noise, all of it
is the outbreath of the deflection
of the moon when it is full.
Its waves are the ways we call
each other, the footprints of stories,
drip paint scrawl, as if we try
to understand each other through love.
I loved you once
and as my letters to you were lost,
so were our moments.
Liza Wolff-Francis is a literary artist with an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Goddard College. She was co-director for the 2014 Austin International Poetry Festival and on the 2008 Albuquerque Poetry Slam Team. She has a poetry chapbook called Language of Crossing (SWEPublications).
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