by Garth Pavell

We sat in the April afternoon
waiting for the moon’s round
ass to fit into a blue sundress.

Neighbors I had never seen,
picnicked in the courtyard;
even the mail-lady chatted.

I saw a dog with solar eclipse
glasses contemplate the black
bird pacing a branch of a tree.

Perhaps they could not
express they felt pitted
dark dig inside the day.

Suddenly the bird was not
afraid to sing; we cheered
for the little guy in the sky.

Garth Pavell’s poems can be found in the recent issues of Epiphany, Ghost City Review, Hobart and Rise Up Review. Garth worked in corporate publishing where he learned everything is negotiable. He now writes with the sun in his eyes on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Connect on Instagram: @garth_and_the_unwieldys.