Fixated on crescent moon reflection
in a window across the street,
I can’t tell the difference between crickets and cicadas,
the music that started with a car down the block,
and children crying next door.
“What are you crying for? she screams at a toddler.
That’s not the sound of a whip cracking,
but this is what my mind hears.
“No one wants to be around you because you’re an ass,”
does not sound like something
I would say to a child
let alone scream loud enough for the neighbor to hear.
A thought I had the other day –
astonished at the hatred in her voice –
speaking to the children
with contempt and disgust –
Is this how she feels about herself?
like the adored man who abandoned me,
not know what love feels like?
-ag, aug 2021