run up the back of my toddler heels
ankles bound in fine knit and lace
frilly skirt bouncing and waving
as an old woman would wave a hanky
to her suitor who chooses to ignore her
as she sallies up to his gray face.
The face of a tired, old, impotent man
in no mood for suiting or dating or dancing,
sitting as he is on rattan
glass of whiskey
in his tobacco-stained fingers,
his patent-leather shoes impatiently tapping.
The fedora, off his stern head, rests
on a tiny wooden tea table.
“Who,” he asks, “is this little snot nose?”
It was explained to me later
in the camellia afternoon
that he didn’t much like Grandma, either.
Carol Louise Moon began composing poetry on vacation to Mt. Shasta following a serious illness. This time of rest and reflection provided the space to create the kind of poems which became Carol Louise’s passion. She believes this kind of renewal doesn’t happen in a vacuum, but my divine inspiration and the encourage-
ment of family and friends. Upon joining a workshop, under the tutelage of two fine poets, Carol Louise was soon being published in local poetry journals and began sharing her poems in open mic and featured reader settings. Today, Carol Louise spends much of her spare time editing, publishing and promoting other
poets from her small city studio in California.