Goodnight Moon on Orchard Street
Through the night window
the staccato telegraphing of the town’s
denies the crickets in the ivy
their pastoral picaresque.
Lights flash and pass,
flash and pass
then blink .
then stop ominously.
The town beyond our slatted shades
beats and crouches and swells
and sings and cries great caterwauling yawps
and skulks between the fences
trampling and pissing in Helen’s flowers,
and – yes – vomits occasionally
beneath the orange-set stars
while with smug, secret grins
to catch one another peeking.
Wendy Pfrenger grew up in a number of east-coast cities, spending just enough time in each to fall in love with it before moving on. She has, for the moment, put down roots in northeast Ohio and teaches at Kent State University’s Salem campus. Her passion for place informs her poetry as well as her work developing pathways to college for rural Appalachian students.