Sarah Russell

Daylight moon

Pale skies this morning and a leftover 
moon, past being of use to lovers or night 
farers, pallid in the light. My mother sighs. 
She’s ninety-seven now and wants to die. 
Crippled hands no longer quilt, clouded 
eyes see only the edge of things. She sits 
at the window and watches the blur 
of her garden shrivel in October’s chill. 
A crow bullies his way onto the feeder, 
scattering the sparrows. Last night’s lovers 
head for work in separate cars.

 

Sarah Russell’s poetry and fiction have been published in Kentucky Review, Misfit Magazine, Rusty Truck, Third Wednesday, and many other journals and anthologies. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee. She has two poetry collections published by Kelsay Books, I lost summer somewhere and Today and Other Seasons and blogs at SarahRussellPoetry.net.