5 poems by Beth Gordon | Micro-poetry | #thesideshow

Moon’s Birth

I straddle the fragile corner of earth that was almost annihilated 5
billions years ago, so it’s no surprise that every thought I have is
about destruction, mold, the impossibility of spun sugar, (your self-
portrait hangs on my wall you leave your body you turn away you
rise reflective and solitary), the inevitability of residual sadness.

 

 

FORTRAN

My ex-wife asked
me to write some filtering

software for ancient
database programs. I expect

I will, but not at the moment.
The future is waiting and I

must attend to unknown
languages. Don’t talk to me

about Area 57, a mere
distraction from the visitors

in our midst.  Refuse to believe
everything your parents and 2nd

grade teachers told you
about commerce, James

Bond or the hobbies
of Playboy centerfolds.

Get out of your dusty
bed, walk to the last

bookstore in town. A pint
of coffee, maybe a beer.  Flash

your deck of punch cards
and I will call you soulmate.

 

 

Nurse Practitioner

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Think of this Hawk Often

for Rebeccah

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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About the Author

Beth Gordon is a poet who has been landlocked in St. Louis, Missouri for the past 16 years and dreams of oceans, daily. She is the lucky mother of three creative human beings, Matt, Alex and Elise, who fill her world with art and music.