question asked by Andrea Fekete
Burned by pink
of a sunrise,
soothed staring
at a lunar eclipse,
holding a hand,
receiving a gift.
Happenings carry us
out of ourselves.
A brown fox
races from woods.
We watch it go
behind the house,
elated with its
unknown purpose.
The jangling
of an ice-cream truck
reminds us of times
we were content
with creamsickle
bars, no napkins
to dry our lips.
In each pause,
there’s happiness.
It passes as suddenly
as it arrived.
We try to reclaim it,
throw in on a pile,
dance around it
while it burns away.
--
Ace Boggess is author of six books of poetry, most recently Escape Envy. His writing has appeared in Michigan Quarterly Review, Notre Dame Review, Harvard Review, Mid-American Review, and other journals. An ex-con, he lives in Charleston, West Virginia, where he writes and tries to stay out of trouble. His seventh collection, Tell Us How to Live, is forthcoming in 2024 from Fernwood Press.