by Morgan Acord

The day I knew I could never love you again,

An old, orange, orbit of a cat sprinted across my path,
the crust on his eyes set on the little girls calling for him,
His hanging jowls barely missing the potholes,
much like the crust over the lacerations on my heart,
were determined for Morticia-Gomez passion
almost unreachable

Throbbing and vibrating like a blade of grass,
I saw your “bleating like a calf after me” as your own pathetic desperation.

The day I knew I could never love you again,
was the day I knew I was no longer your fool,
But I was destined to be “the beautiful little fool”
I promised myself I would never be.

(The Great Gatsby Line and The Roaring Girl Line)

by Morgan Acord

Mom always told me about the Man in the Moon
how the cat jumps over him, though I didn’t know these peculiarities until she held his hand.

Some nights, my cat yanks my ear and leads me further,
into my grandma’s parlor, the hum of the evening news.
Sitting, dozing off on plush carpet,
barely knee high to the arm of the sofa.

Fog outside of the windows,
an external curtain alarms me,
But your light leading, coming down,
the stairs, comforts me

I yearn in the darkness where I know
there are plastic angels, music boxes of Gibson Girls,

The Miller High Life Girl smooths your hair

I shiver in the lonely cold,
but I feel you lift me,
carry me up the stairs,

I nuzzle into your breasts, they smell of powdered lavender,
like the wallpaper climbing up, up, up,
the crescent moon smiling at me,
Old moving picture actresses twirl and blow us kisses with their petite cherry lips.

You lay with me in a day night bed,
stroke my tiny face, that you said graced you with sunshine at noon in mid-August.

“Come,” you say
“come”
and the sinking joy I feel, as you slip away and I wake.