April by Charles Carr


From where I stand
the moon hangs like a sign
on the only store open
a few minutes before dawn,
stars are headlights
in the distant dark;
who knows how long
they have been on the road.
One takes a sharp turn
to the left as though a parking
space appears out of nowhere
and if somebody or something
is out there, I can only hope
your coffee is as good
as the cup I hold in my hand
and regardless
how many daylights
you might go through,
may one have occasion
to introduce a cloud so low
it wants nothing more
than to trace you
in its small rain.

by Charles Carr

Twitter: @selfrisinmojo

Editor’s Note: The imagery in this poem calls to mind some of WCW’s most spare poems, and this attention to detail highlights the emotional urgency of the closing lines.