Two Poems By Daniel Edward Moore

Make Me Feel Believable

strung out on silence 
in a Merton kind of way

without a cross in my arm
without being buried in

Kentucky’s blue hills
where a coalminer’s Christ 

sanctified sweat dripped 
off a monk’s prayer axe.

If I consecrate wafers of no,
pray to yes, then swallow,

what if I do that?  
Screen Door Speaking Softly

We agreed, the unexpected 
did not expect the silence to be 
thick as a glaciers tongue 
considering the tropical history of hearts 
the world believed we inhabited. 

Nodding our heads like horses 
in heat as the snowy field 
held our hooves like hands 
blessing the body of Christ, 
we waited outside the bloodshot barn 
of evening’s expectation, 
waited for cruelty to call it a day,
maybe even a life.

Daniel Edward Moore lives in Washington on Whidbey Island. His poems are forthcoming in Chiron Review, The American Journal of Poetry, The Bitter Oleander, Plainsongs Magazine, Blue Mountain Review and Drunk Monkeys Magazine. He is the author of ‘Boys’ (Duck Lake Books) and “Waxing the Dents” (Brick Road Poetry Press)                                          

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