Full Moon

poem by Kristen Lindquist

Editor’s note: July 3rd will be our next full moon. This poem by Kristen, now a regular on The Writer’s Almanac, was read by Garrison Keillor on his June 16th broadcast. Listen here.

From my window, one hand on the phone, I strain
to hear the argument playing out below in a parked car,

a loud fight punctuated by slammed doors, a revved engine,
the man pounding the dashboard, yelling, “I didn’t do anything!”

while the woman shouts back, over and over, “Just shut up!”
A giggling troupe of girls emerges from the pool hall

that serves anyone. They toss a pack of cigarettes back and forth,
stray out of the dark alley toward the lights of Main Street,

while hurrying the other way, a lawyer who’s been working late,
briefcase bulging around mounds of paperwork,

heads now for her car, the last one left in all-day parking.
A collection of elderly restaurant-goers strolls purposefully

down the sidewalk, well-dressed, inaudible, unflinching
as they pass the arguers’ car. I should be asleep.

It must be after eleven; the movie marquee’s lights
have just shut off. Something large crashes out back

behind the building. My bed is empty.
When I lean out at just the right angle, I can see the ocean

scarred by moonlight, the glowing zero of the moon’s face
poised above the window, looking in.

“Full Moon” by Kristen Lindquist, from Transportation. © Megunti Cook Press. To purchase: contact Kristen at kelindquist@gmail.com or Megunticook Press, 12 Mount Battie St., Camden, ME 04843