NR Digital

Poetry

by Stephen Scaer

MOONLIGHT IN NASHUA

The moonlight rouses me at half past three,
piercing through thick curtains I had drawn,
but for this gap. My heavy-lidded eyes
return the glare. What’s this bald rock to me
but glassy basalt leering from the skies
indecently before the wholesome dawn

Send a letter to the editor.

Get the NR Magazine App
iPad/iPhone   |   Android