Harriot West

Untethered

My ex told me I should lighten up. Dance in the aisles. Prance down the street, free as the wildly out-of-place day moon. The very same moon that sets young children prattling on about fiddles and hey diddle diddles.

halfway 
between yesterday
and tomorrow
the swelling buds
of daffodils

Sorry about that song I keep humming. If it bothers you, let me know. I’ll turn my face to the wind. I’ll even turn my body to the wind, arms stretched wide, and with a bit of luck, perhaps I’ll catch an updraft.

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About the Author

Harriot West lives in Eugene, Oregon, and rarely manages to write a prose poem that feels complete without adding at least one haiku.