"What's the world for you if you can't make it up the way you want."

-Jazz, Toni Morrison


Verbal Dads

Verbal Dads

When the mouth grudgingly pulls its lips
off years of silence on the mound, plucking
beards off boys with faces locked in catcher’s masks, 
waving fingers across their crotch, instructing men
on how hard to throw, on how long to twirl 
the wind with an arm, like a hairy pink baton, 

sometimes the hand cannot arrange a place for
the batter to rest, as other parts of the body gather
in rooms not known for their cheering support, 
in rooms described by those weeping in dugouts 
as darker domains unhinged from the light of a 
baseball game on Sunday.


Daniel Edward Moore lives in Washington on Whidbey Island with the poet, Laura Coe Moore. His poems are forthcoming in Weber Review, West Trade Review, Duende Literary Journal, and others. His chapbook "Boys," is forthcoming from Duck Lake Books (February 2020). Website: Danieledwardmoore.com.

Cover photo by Erik Mclean

Sick

Sick

There burns a fire without smoke

There burns a fire without smoke