Magnetic Hill, Moncton, New Brunswick
Water running uphill—
that, you don’t forget—
and it’s quite the sensation
to shift into neutral, feel your car
picking up speed as you
sail upwards with the stream,
or so it seems—the brain
just can’t comprehend it.
I was too young then
to understand, but now I find
an old postcard my mother
had saved in her scrapbook
and see the contours of the land
induce the illusion, the magnet
is the same there as elsewhere,
the ride works best when you
silence your engine,
let go the brake.
"Magnetic Hill, Moncton, New Brunswick" first appeared in Sou'Wester
Out Here
It’s possible to forget
out here, twenty miles from the base,
watching cinnamon-hued horses, smooth
as suede, grazing in their field,
foal at her mother’s teat,
brook noisy as a boy
sloshing in last night’s rainwater,
morning still steam-tinged—
when three F-16’s shoot by,
raking the landscape, pulling
up my eyes. And while the mare
simply bows, tugging
at a tuft of grass, my tongue
becomes dry as gauze,
tasting war
not so far away.
"Out Here" first appeared in Greensilk Journal
Planting a Tree
My husband planted a tree in the dog’s yard.
The poor sapling didn’t have a chance.
Held by its stake, it stood its ground through storms
And wicked winds pushing through the plains.
But there was no hope. Our Lab couldn’t learn
How to unravel her line when she’d wrap
Around that lean tree. For she’s all exuberance
At the sight of us. All charge and jump.
So the maple snapped,
leaving behind a stub like a corn stalk after the harvest.
John meant to pull it out, restore the soil.
But it stayed all winter.
Then May arrived in sundress and heels,
Blossoms in her hair.
And shoots burst through the stump like fireworks,
Exploding with green.
"Planting a Tree" first appeared in RUMINATE
Somewhere Else
We’d expected this,
their naked, red heads
ducking deep into the flesh of a fox
dead for days—drawn to its suffocating scent
lingering like sweat on the hot road—
their ivory bills peeling back the sorrel fur
picking meat off the bones.
It was dinner for two.
But when a car approached, their wings sprung open
propelling them around our yard. Mid-loop—
what surprise!—a red-winged blackbird
popped out of the Black Locust nearby,
hopping onto the thick back of one vulture,
screaming like a thrill rider
as the mute scavengers flew two laps low,
then landed, finally shook him off,
and walked back to their meal.
And soon enough,
only the pelt remained upon the pavement
like a hunter’s splayed-out rug awaiting the traipse
of traffic, the stench like the birds,
hanging around death
somewhere else.
"Somewhere Else" first appeared in The MacGuffin, where it also won Second Honorable Mention in
its 2006 National Poet Hunt Contest
© All Poetry Copyright Julie L. Moore. All Rights Reserved.
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