moon almost full

By: Terry Jude Miller

—its most important piece—missing
the cursor of the computer waits for a letter—not a word—
not a line—not a poem—but a letter—it is happy to hold position
to pulsate with a linear heart and wait

earlier—I walked in darkness—passed a parked SUV
its headlights authoring shadow—no driver inside
when light dissipated from my peripheral vision
I heard the vehicle move on

I am given to one who has been given
nothing but broken things in a lifetime
of unscheduled repairs

the foolish things we do when we are lost
in the language of lamentation—we all wait
the moon—the driver—the fixer—me
and you

Terry Jude Miller is a Pushcart Prize-nominated poet from Houston. He received the 2018 Catherine Case Lubbe Manuscript Prize for his book, The Drawn Cat’s Dream. His work has been published in the Southern Poetry Anthology, The Lily Poetry Review, The Comstock Review, and The Oakland Review and in scores of other publications. He formerly served as 1st Vice Chancellor of the National Federation of State Poetry Societies.

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