"a small flood can stop the moonlight" by Livio Farallo

alone at night,

the devil is in

the garbage can

                       unheard

                       and speaking to snow.

he’s

swinging

                a mardi gras necklace

in a midnight that’s only a smile

until rain coils like a boomerang

and he throws it

at the

           largest headstone.

under grass

            is a basement room

            closing the sun

‘s eyes

for a spell called

                   romance and i’ve

                   begged my-

self not to

               look

               through telescopes

               and see

               confusion too

  closely as i’d see

               a ridge of fear.

(stanza break)

there is a 

              love

              song happening in any

hour that

         fresh-

ens when new brides haven’t

                           lost

their smell and the grocery

                                   cart’

s 

wheel blubbers

            on the tiled floor. dawn

                                           folds itself

                                           with

a cockroach hidden in the lazy susan: the

bed

sighs

         like a shrunken head.

Livio Farallo is co-editor of Slipstream. His work has appeared in numerous publications in the small-press world.