HOME
SUBMISSION GUIDELINES
STAFF BIOS
BLOG
LINKS
Winter 2010
POETRY
FICTION
COLUMNS
NON-FICTION
CONTRIBUTORS
EDITORIAL
CONVERSATIONS
ARCHIVES
CONTACT US
Poetry

Common Enemies

John Sibley Williams

A russet moon hanging crescent
with its sharper tip nearly touching earth
is only half the story.
 
The obvious symbol, the dotted line
cut around to paste
its romantic shape upon flags.
 
I wonder if school children here
slip into the hands of crushes
multi-colored half-moons,
 
as we might snowflakes or hearts
with arrows half-piercing
or our virginal hands
 
when the adult world’s eyes
are diverted by war.
War, with its common enemies.
 
War with its silent nods of resignation.
 
I am praying to this moon tonight
as I would any other.
Listening to American jazz
 
on Damascus radio.

RETURN TO POETRY INDEX >