by Jen Feroze
My daughter asks for the moon
for her birthday.
In the stark October dusk
she holds her hands to the sky
says it must be lonely up there,
wonders if the stars are friendly.
Owl noon finds me on the edge of the pond,
swings gossiping rust behind me.
The long pole is quickly slippery with weed
and failure but then she bites,
cradled like a soft-boiled egg
on this horseshoe spoon. I tie the ribbon
gently and will myself not to think
of the word ‘noose’. Together we walk home,
this awesome balloon and I, interfering
with the dreams of each house we pass.
I leave her bobbing softly on the ceiling,
glowing like a grieving mother.
Jen Feroze (she/her) is a UK poet living by the sea with her husband and young children. Her work has been widely published, and has recently appeared in Poetry Wales, The Chestnut Review, Spelt, Hyacinth Review and The Orchards Poetry Journal, among others. She loves cold water swimming, turquoise things and chunky knitwear. Find her on twitter @jenlareine and on instagram @the_colourofhope.