Backyard Maintenance

The impossible is never really there
only the shadow of the shadow
in the way you would ask me things

and then believe what I would say,
the moon is purposeful and green
on Leap Years and religious holidays,

the eyes of the bear can see through
trees, their brown is the color
of hardwood, the minute you believe

something is gone, it returns to you.
I set the things out in the yard
for your inspection. The jar for bees.

The net made of clothes hangers
and old silk dungerees. The names
of those who have left us never

to return. But then that was it,
the museum of the backyard,
and all other things we cling to

in each other remain. It’s not
impossible to believe anything you
see, nothing stays invisible forever.

George Moore’s poetry has appeared in The Atlantic, Poetry, North American Review, Colorado Review, Orion, Queen's Quarterly, Antigonish Review, Dublin Quarterly, and Blast. In 2009, he was nominated for two Pushcart Prizes and two “Best of the Web” awards, and this year for The Rhysling Poetry Award. His recent collections include Headhunting (Mellen, 2002) and the e-Book, All Night Card Game in the Back Room of Time (Pulpbit.com, 2007). Moore has held recent artist residencies in Spain, Portugal, Iceland, Canada, with another in Greece this spring. He teaches writing and literature with the University of Colorado, Boulder.