Jennifer MacPherson

Perfect & Invisible

like love gone green-apple sour
or worse, gone slack like its soft sister,

like pain mellowing into forgotten slumber,
an ache that remembers the good years,

like the hard worm of grief,
eater of silk and harsh history,

like desire in all its milk or passion’s poppy
that sways and sways in a touch,

like anger’s ocean and river,
its torrential niagara, the boat lost in the fog,

like hope hanging on, tattered
moth with orange wing.