Lucky Day
The Way is losing the Way,
says the Dao, and how
do you do, replies the lost
kissed moth, right across
my lips, before I can say
anything about Blake
and try to make it stick,
fluttering fool that I am,
I am kissed by this
missed destination,
my mouth still abuzz
with a beat of bouncing
from need to need
to know,
and likely never will.
Christopher Phelps is a queer, neurodivergent poet living in Santa Fe where he teaches math and letteral arts. He is searching for others who believe poetry can be equal parts vulnerable and subversive. His poems have appeared in Poetry Magazine, Palette Poetry, Beloit Poetry Journal, The Kenyon Review, Zoeglossia, and The Nation. A chapbook, Tremblem, was semi-privately printed in 2018. Details can be found at www.christopher-phelps.com/poetry.