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Winner, 2017 

Los Angeles Poet Society National Poetry Month Poetry Contest

published by Los Angeles Poet Society


The first way to look at the moon

is straight up

with a shot of whiskey on the side.

The second would be through

the site of a rifle,

a man on his knees.

The third, of course, is skipping

along the embryonic trail,

throwing starlight

to find your way back.


The fourth would be to plant a rose bush

on the sunny side of the hill,

the side that overlooks the corral

where you keep the horse

you rode in on.


You could look at the moon through a hole

in the middle of a slice

of buttered bread,

or through slits between the fingers

of the hand you’ve raised to cover

your eyes,

the moon’s beauty too great to bear

in an oversized tee

and bare feet.


Of the seventh, well, it’s the one

to come back to after you’ve been

away and returned.


Eighth is to point at her, arm outstretched.

Then take someone’s hand and say,

“The incidence of candle light

might make a pawn tremble

with delight.”


The ninth way is to be the pawn.

Way number ten would be not

to look

at the moon, but to look

at the stillness of the dark lake instead.


A circle drawn on a piece of paper

might be the moon. Look at it that way.


Or whisper her name

in every language you know.


The twelfth way to look at the moon

is to re-assemble the apple slices

in your piece of pie.


Thirteen is the moon watches you.

© 2017 Lisa Segal


​(after Wallace Stevens’ Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird)

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