by Midnight Moon
Wild Poetry Forum
Second Place, January 2022
Judged by Carol Graser

But for me, Chicago was a place for moon-whispering, where wind, “the hawk”, becomes moon-wind, whistling and making silvery, silky blue shadows on moon cacti. I found a way to escape Chicago.

My Dad was tough, a real Chicagoan. No tiny, pink tenderness-flower escaped his clippers when he pruned life’s garden.
I found a way to escape Chicago.

He taught me to buy sharp, red high heels and strut through the city. I’d make sparks and grind my heels against the pavement, hiding that I was actually invisible. My mind slithered like a young coyote through vegetation on the moon. I found a way to escape Chicago.

My mother, another moon-dweller, stretched out her arms like the circle in the sky. It wasn’t her fault she hated me, and not my fault about my father’s lust. I found a way to escape Chicago.

Loneliness is the thing I’ve learned the most about out west. Back east, you’re tough; You’re mean. But here, the fog from the Pacific ocean mixes with your molecules, making you fog-like, too. I found a way to escape Chicago.

I like the general dreamy, moonscape of this poem and the repetition of the last line of each stanza. The poem is a good mix of telling the story and leaving some mystery. --Carol Graser