What I mean when I say Car Seat

by Sarah Thursday

I held your

five-year-old hand

across the upholstered seat

and our thumbs lock like

you mean to keep me safe

like I am the cup

on the dashboard waiting

for brake lights

to shove me forward

you are holding me

from shattering windshields

from this car-

carriage crushed steel

we’re tumbling around

and around but not

really moving, not

actually cracking glass

I got your fingers and thumb

curled into mine

but I can’t hold on after

you outgrew your car seat

you outgrew the backseat

outgrew our hand-holding

me protecting you protecting me

* * * * *

Sarah Thursday, in addition to writing poetry, co-hosted 2nd Mondays Poetry Party, ran a poetry website called CadenceCollective.net, and founded Sadie Girl Press as a way to help publish local and emerging poets and artists. She has been published in many fine journals and anthologies, interviewed by Poetry LA, and received a 2017 Best of the Net nomination for “To the Men who told me my Love was not enough.” Her newest poetry book, Conversations with Gravel, is available at SadieGirlPress.com. Find and follow her to learn more on SarahThursday.com, Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram.   

GROCERY SHOPPING WITH MY WIFE

ON A WINDY JANUARY DAY

by Mary K O'Melveny

First, we scanned chilled blue skies

for signs of comfort as

we dressed up in layers

to venture out where trees

are bent over like old

chess players huddled at

a park square deep in thought. 

Our trip for groceries

turned glacial – we could have

been on Shackleton’s team –

each with duties, routines

to keep our focus, shift

our luck. I will find us

lettuce, butter, cereal.

She will search for paper

goods, cleaning products. Our

supermarket’s aisles are swelled. 

Who knows if it is King’s

birthday or Trump’s furlough

that finds us all here, carts

filling with chicken soups,

instant cocoa and whipped cream.

It feels as though we might

find some comfort here that

eludes us elsewhere. As

if din of commerce might

obscure our deeper fears

that our capacities

for survival were merely

temporary; that, like

the Endurance, we might

weaken or falter against

pack ice and shifting gales. 

And so we add chocolate

cookies. And a Merlot.

The thirty-fourth Moon Prize goes to Judy Katz-Levine's prose poem "For the children taken away," mesmerizing in its sweeping simplicity.

For the children taken away

by Judy Katz-Levine

I spent the day watching the way hour by hour came, like children imprisoned. I could not shake the image of a girl under a mylar blanket, crying. I held the afternoon like a father who is grieving for his daughter; the way we fight cruelty, sometimes with such inner resistance, wherever we are, we are holding each other in this. Loneliness that breaks bones, a fall, the kids aren't forgotten for one split second. You hear a blind boy call for his mother.

* * * * *

Judy Katz-Levine's new book, The Everything Saint, was published by Word Press late 2018 and is available on Amazon. Of the book, the publisher says "The Everything Saint shows us the holy in the ordinary, and Judy Katz-Levine is a faithful guide to such wonders." Her recent poetry and translations have appeared in Writing In A Woman's Voice, Miriam's Well, Salamander, Blue Unicorn, Ibbetson Street, Event Horizon, Peacock Journal, and many other venues. Also a jazz flutist, she enjoys playing at jam sessions.

Avoidance

by Sarah Thursday

Anything but sit-still

Anything but pencil-to-paper

tell you how I am feeling.

Wash dishes, counters,

deep corners of the sink.

Find every divot

where the paint didn’t stick.

Paint over in different directions

view across angles of lights.

Call a friend, talk, eat, let me

get you a glass, pull up a chair,

cut the grass, make a list,

sharpen the pencils, fold

all the towels, shake out the rugs,

Pet the cat, the cat, the cat.

She needs to be analyzed,

spoken for, comforted.

Shake and shift twist shake

and shift twist. Anything but

sit-still.

* * * * *

Sarah Thursday, in addition to writing poetry, co-hosted 2nd Mondays Poetry Party, ran a poetry website called CadenceCollective.net, and founded Sadie Girl Press as a way to help publish local and emerging poets and artists. She has been published in many fine journals and anthologies, interviewed by Poetry LA, and received a 2017 Best of the Net nomination for “To the Men who told me my Love was not enough.” Her newest poetry book, Conversations with Gravel, is available at SadieGirlPress.com. Find and follow her to learn more on SarahThursday.com, Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram.     

Hauling Cots

by Jeannie E. Roberts

            One must imagine Sisyphus happy . . . the struggle itself towards the heights

            is enough to fill a man's heart. ―Albert Camus, "The Myth of Sisyphus"

            

Like King Sisyphus and his eternal bolder-rolling condemnation,

she couldn't help but contemplate her past, her naive decisions,

rebellious blunders, and impertinent mistakes. Had the gods

also arranged this Sisyphean effort? It came close, those months

of hauling and assembling cots. Some weeks seemed like an eternity.

Her pincher fingers would never be the same, nor would her hands,

arms, and back. Was her inner drive set for self-destruction?

Perhaps her outspoken words were the straws that broke the Greek

gods' backs, for she had entered an underworld of crying, screaming,

diapers, and unwieldy cots.

Greek myth has Sisyphus rolling a bolder uphill, only to watch

it roll back down. There’s no doubt that this endless undertaking

was laborious and repetitive, but was it futile?

During the downward spiral, one can imagine rest, even contentment,

for there's time to reflect upon the upward struggle. Like the rise

and fall of a wave or the inhale and exhale of breath, the struggle

itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's [or woman's]

heart. There may be joy, even divinity in the abiding day-to-day tasks,

including the hauling and assembling of cots, for children may nap,

and preschool teachers may muse, float in the ebb, for an hour or so,

or at least until the waves rise, awaken.

* * * * *

Jeannie E. Roberts has authored four poetry collections, including The Wingspan of Things (Dancing Girl Press, 2017), Romp and Ceremony (Finishing Line Press, 2017), Beyond Bulrush (Lit Fest Press, 2015), and Nature of it All (Finishing Line Press, 2013). She is also the author and illustrator of Rhyme the Roost! A Collection of Poems and Paintings for Children (forthcoming from Daffydowndilly Press, an imprint of Kelsay Books, 2019) as well as Let's Make Faces!, a children's book dedicated to her son (author-published, 2009). She is Poetry Editor of the online literary magazine Halfway Down the Stairs and a member of the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets.

Not Really Relating

by Jeannie E. Roberts

               "Look within, for within is the wellspring of virtue,

                which will not cease flowing, if you cease not from digging."

                ―Marcus Aurelius

She recalls he was eleven, maybe twelve, when they’d last met.

Anticipating the depth and maturity of a middle-aged man,

her expectations dissolved upon hearing his critique: My god,

what happened―what happened to you? Your skin. Your face.

You used to be so gorgeous. Maybe Botox could help.

Despite his potential, he seemed to be a person with little verbal

filter, whose attachment to earthly things had gotten the best

of him. After his comments, he mentioned his fondness

for weightlifting. Demonstrating his skill, he picked her up,

added a robust bear hug and these conciliatory words: but you're

still sweet. Throughout the afternoon, he made troubling remarks

and as he continued down the path of belittlement,

she thought to herself, this is not the kind of company

I wish to keep, especially on my birthday. During their hike,

in the setting she used to call home, the woods appeared darker,

less inviting, it wasn't the fertile ground she’d remembered,

nor wished to remember, it was spoiled, not nearly as pretty.

Thinking about the complexity of our stories and how they often

carry heavy narratives, that October evening, she turned

to the unseen, the missing pieces, the broken and misshapen ones,

hoping that the puzzle might someday be repaired,

compassionately assembled and placed carefully back in its box.

Aligning herself, she visualized a place, a space, where another

kind of beauty exists, one that's aware of something other than

externals, a resonant, deep-seated well of potentiality, a reservoir

that has no knowledge of skin or surface, injury or wrongdoing,

nor any part of our temporal existence. She held this image,

concentrated on its healing properties, envisioned his essence

as kindness, a treasury of strength and goodness, grounded

in confidence, completely detached from self. Within this wellspring,

he appeared aquatic, embryonic, like a fetus prior to birth.

* * * * *

Jeannie E. Roberts has authored four poetry collections, including The Wingspan of Things (Dancing Girl Press, 2017), Romp and Ceremony (Finishing Line Press, 2017), Beyond Bulrush (Lit Fest Press, 2015), and Nature of it All (Finishing Line Press, 2013). She is also the author and illustrator of Rhyme the Roost! A Collection of Poems and Paintings for Children (forthcoming from Daffydowndilly Press, an imprint of Kelsay Books, 2019) as well as Let's Make Faces!, a children's book dedicated to her son (author-published, 2009). She is Poetry Editor of the online literary magazine Halfway Down the Stairs and a member of the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets.

For the children taken away

by Judy Katz-Levine

I spent the day watching the way hour by hour came, like children imprisoned. I could not shake the image of a girl under a mylar blanket, crying. I held the afternoon like a father who is grieving for his daughter; the way we fight cruelty, sometimes with such inner resistance, wherever we are, we are holding each other in this. Loneliness that breaks bones, a fall, the kids aren't forgotten for one split second. You hear a blind boy call for his mother.

* * * * *

Judy Katz-Levine's new book, The Everything Saint, was published by Word Press late 2018 and is available on Amazon. Of the book, the publisher says "The Everything Saint shows us the holy in the ordinary, and Judy Katz-Levine is a faithful guide to such wonders." Her recent poetry and translations have appeared in Writing In A Woman's Voice, Miriam's Well, Salamander, Blue Unicorn, Ibbetson Street, Event Horizon, Peacock Journal, and many other venues. Also a jazz flutist, she enjoys playing at jam sessions.