Ace Boggess

Pink Supermoon

Statewide Lockdown, Day Fifteen

Burning fruit nestled in rotten branches of an oak.
Ferryman’s coin laid over one eye

while the other stares glassily into the void.
Bullet-hole, knife’s pucker—

the one that kills, the one that wounds.
Transitive monument, popup gravestone,

sickly lovely, pinkish-maybe,
yellow, yellow, yellow.

Dogs on every street have quieted.
I cry staring at the blush—it isn’t why.

Ace Boggess is author of six books of poetry, including Escape Envy (forthcoming from Brick Road Poetry Press). His poems have appeared in Michigan Quarterly Review, Harvard Review, cream city review, J Journal, Rhino, and other journals. Having spent five years in prison, he now lives in Charleston, West Virginia.