for Chantz Erolin and Marie Howe
It was just luck: orange groves,
those two olive orchards, the way
we sat side by side on the picnic bench.
You in that white blouse, open
at the throat. Those goats in the pen
with the two dogs who looked outnumbered,
but happy in their confusion. A gun mistaken
for a taser. A murder. You know
the rest. None of it is just luck.
Too early for the swallows, but right on time
for the red-winged blackbirds. Look away,
then look back. I can almost see it,
the world as it really is. But not quite.
“Look Again” from Prognosis. Copyright © 2021 by Jim Moore. Reprinted with the permission of Graywolf Press, Minneapolis, Minnesota, www.graywolfpress.org