after Henry Moore

Blasted, broken to frag-
ments, left arm won’t—
both legs blown &
absent, the spaces abuzz
w/ anger—but I edge
forward, shield up
as leg-stumps toe
for foothold. My mouth
is an X. Still-
ness. Yet I see.
I’ve been left.

Moonlight empties
onto my chest,
rivulets down
in a branching sheen
& I swell w/ a hunch
I’ll make it
as if an old tune
warms the heart,
as if I too
might sing
again to Shelly.

I’ve been
PUT CHARAsome-
PUT_CHARACTERS_HEREone
else
PUT_CHARAonce
PUT_CHARACTERS_HEREsome-
body
PUT_CHARAother:
PUT_CHARACTERS_HEREa child.
Dandelion
PUT_CHARApods
PUT_CHARACTERS_HEREtumble
past my
PUT_CHARAopen
PUT_CHARACTERS_HEREpalms.

G.H. Mosson

G.H. Mosson is the author of two books and three chapbooks of poetry, most recently Family Snapshot as a Poem in Time (FLP 2019) and co-author of Simultaneous Revolutions (PM Press 2021). His poetry has appeared in The Hollins Critic, The Tampa Review, Measure, The Cincinnati Review, and elsewhere. Mosson has an MA from the Johns Hopkins Writing Seminars, where he was a lecturer and a teaching fellow, and BA in English. After an early career as a writer and teacher, Mr. Mosson practices law and enjoys raising his children, day-hiking, and reading. For more, check out some poems, essays and mysteries at www.ghmosson.com.