Every New Moon, My Archetype

   by Nadine Kachur


Soul-self, pissed by some racial memory 
Moved at birth—born the day before 
A lunar cycle began—is not at home, 
Is far from, anyway, today's that day, visit 
The library, stray among books of the dead 
Poets other poets rave about until my head aches, 
Literally or maybe it was going cold off coffee, 
Served papers same night, former tenant 
Needs money, he's suing twice his deposit 
To get some, plus pain & suffering for undisclosed 
Amount he calls salary; I took pictures—used rubbers, 
Lost bits of marijuana cigarettes scatter the filthy floor 
I had to sweep. The lawyer assures me it’s a non-case, 
Though will cost to show, he estimates fifteen hundred 
For him, non-billable court & research time for me, 
Emotional strain I’m not cut out for dogs me: 
It’s the coming down to earth, dark, & moonless.