Poetry by Lenny Lianne

      Nicholas Erwin CC




NIGHT CHATTER

The moon stays silent, listening
for the muffled sounds of all
kept secret in the universe. Stars
wink as though they also hear,
but won’t tell. And on my block,

an owl asks, who-who, and
is answered mostly by a murmur
of distant, west-bound traffic.
Unseen, stubborn breezes 
besiege the bougainvillea,

twisting those heart-shaped 
leaves with tremors and twitches.
Once in bed, I pray to the gods
to protect and advise those I love, 
above all, the breakable ones--

the mom who stays at the bar late
to toss down her sixth drink
or her son who recoils from family
and retreats to snort or shoot up—  
all the fragile ones with addictions, 

even though they might not want 
to be released nor know how. 
I confide my prayers to the heavens 
in hopes, that somewhere, 
someone hears them.

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LENNY LIANNE is the author of five books of poetry, most recently Sunshine Has Its Limits (Kelsay Books).  She holds an MFA in Creative Writing (Poetry) from George Mason University and has taught various forms of poetry in workshops on both coasts. A world traveler, she lives in Arizona with her husband and their dog.