Medium, Poetry Waning Gibbous March 31, 2022 A poem. I wish I put more stockin the stars.The moon, meridian, mars,mercury, midpoint — elucidations for the W word. Why Monday? Whywould she? And I am back: wall of windows,Mandarin Bistro,blue speckled laminate table,red lines on the back of thighs. JCPenney lunchboxunzip, ice pack, Honey-wheat Sara Lee, smushed crust, crunchy strawberry peanut concoction. Why do they leave? Bathroom stall, back again — free timethe bane of all times. Inconspicuously stuck. Was mercury in retrograde? Is it now: flashbacks oozing,mind boozing, trying to forget.Knock it out. Cut it out.I wish I put more stock in Apple. In constellations,confirmation I’m nota consolation prize. I’m the last one you’d call, why? Why? Why? Red is the longest, dullestwavelength in the spectrumto be wielded while looking at the stratospherein the black sea of night — it won’t bruise retinaswhile eyes probe the moon. I am waning, too. Previously published in The POM Previous March: A Curation Story* Newer The Simple Thing That Cured My Anxiety-Induced Insomnia You May Also Like Writing Consistently is Key June 5, 2016 Fighting Distraction While Writing February 23, 2017 An Editor’s Tips on Submitting to Literary Journals June 8, 2021 Leave a Reply Cancel replyYour email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *Name * Email * Website Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment. Comment Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.