Elizabeth Bishop Dreams of Moose While Waiting at the Drive-Thru

It is cold this morning,
the field beside us curbed 
by frost, crystals of muted color,
refracted light growing
with the sun’s rise. Our tail lights
flicker and inch closer to the window.

A woman orders her coffee,
a bag of sugar, butter stains
already seeping across a white
bag, hints of smeared jelly. 
From here I can just make out
the creases of a smile as she grabs
the bag, imagine the crinkle of sturdy
paper, the roll of it between the pads
of her finger tips.

Somewhere further back in line,
a horn honks like ovals of geese 
bobbing softly beyond us 
to find a grassy field. My eyes are shut
I see them gathering, their necks’
slow ungulation, long sighs,
an old conversation. They are
unconcerned with interruption—

so, at first, they do not recognize
the calf, still ruddy with its first
fur, looming at the edge of the wood
curious, listening to their chatter
sniffing the dried thistles at its feet
it’s all right now to dream 
of something dim and sweet, otherworldly, 
the air thick with morning.

Jared Beloff is a teacher and poet who lives in Queens, NY with his wife and two daughters. You can find his work in Contrary Magazine, Rise Up Review, Barren Magazine, Bending Genres, The Shore and elsewhere. He is the editor of the Marvel inspired poetry anthology, Marvelous Verses. His work was nominated for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize for 2021. You can find him online at www.jaredbeloff.com

there’s no such thing as a quiet explosion

as us. even the sunset aims - and shoots its bullet right 
through the heart - i would have held it - held

you, if only the sound was small enough
for the two of us, and created its own paradise with

the whispers of a god. instead we did hear,
in fact, clear as the sun with a gun

of marble, pillars of powdered calcite
under our fingers. the sky is purple with blood. we are still

dancing, still guilty of demanding to be seen - the things
i would do to keep your smile. we look up

                                         and the moon is in pieces.

Siena Ho Shun Yi (she/her) is a writer from Hong Kong and Malaysia. Her favourite word is pretty and her favourite things are pretty things (words remain the prettiest). In her natural habitat, Siena can be found watching anime or bothering her friends, and she would like to bother you on Twitter @sienasyed.