Poems by Miriam Sagan

moon jellies
translucent, back-lit, floating,
don’t touch me
angel of annunciation
use caution
arriving to deliver
what is certainly
long lost love
must fade
yet linger, fade again
a suburban street
as if it were a great city
Paris, or Berlin
or Memphis
where each song begins
with the river’s flow
where each song ends
baby please don’t go


pianist in red
plays Beethoven’s “The Tempest”
there is sheet music
sometimes you’re driving at night 
in fog,
not remembering the rule
about high beams,
the child in the forest
but who left us
and why did they lie
about how breadcrumbs
are permanent as pebbles?
you say you are just an hour
outside of Clayton, New Mexico
and will be home
before I am,
something is missing—
my mother’s memories
my fake pearl earring
the fondness I should have
but like an ellipse
what is gone
crescent moon
as if the sky
were a flag
and the polluted harbor
floated with stars

Miriam Sagan’s most recent collection GEOGRAPHIC (Casa de Snapdragon) won the 2016 Arizona/New Mexico book award in poetry.