Regret

Trailers and streetlights, 

rattle of crickets,

whippoorwills’ 

lure of darkness.



Handfuls of moon

spill out on cut grass.

Rough stars

poke holes



in a perfect blanket of sky.

All the words

I never said

thicken the walls



of my mouth.

Circles gather in stone,

circles and lines

beneath a shock of flowers.

by Scott Owens?