Jennifer Moxley Poems

How lovely it is not to go. To suddenly take ill.
Not seriously ill, just a little under the weather.
To feel slightly peaked, indisposed. Plagued by
a vague ache, or a slight inexplicable chill.
...

Not forced to fall for hideous Phaon,
nor to drift dreamlike from
a Victorian cliff, pursued by visions
of slender limbs, peach-soft hair,
...

For Ann Lauterbach
Hemmed in by an un-

tenable image:
...

I was eating my dinner alone,
sitting on the living-room couch
watching a movie on TV for company
...