Poems by Ruth Bavetta

Hunger Moon

The last moon of February
tigers light and dark
across the bricks.
A disc of silver drowns
in the shadowy pond.
Yucca’s midnight spikes
the sky. A breeze from the east,
and a single magnolia leaf waterfalls
to cool, black stones.

Morning Walk

White iris by my neighbor’s garage,
calendulas around her mailbox. 
And in the raised bed
where she buried old Schnitz,
the black Lab, flowers.

The Wilson house is empty,
front windows boarded,
water heater leaking
on the front porch.
Farther along, someone’s
building a driveway of imitation brick.

Down a small hill, a mulberry tree,
two hysterical Shelties
behind a chain link fence.
A Scottie who stands just inside
an open gate and growls. 

At the corner of Sunset and Highview,
I turn around
and everything replays—
Scottie,
Shelties,
bricks,
water heater,
Labrador retriever
sprouting
perfect
yellow
daylilies.