22 | A Poem by Irina Moga
Taraxacum
Where are you this morning?
I am still here, on the 43rd parallel North –
are you still close to a Jovian moon?
The fantom of your kiss on my lips
weighs in on the incipient gusts.
Where are you?
Your thoughts – parachutes
dispersed over the morning’s fault lines –
the unaccounted-for undertones from last night.
Taraxacum.
The dandelion genus that binds us inside the
aloofness of its pollen –
the male part of flowering.
Across the Earth’s 126th East-54th West meridian loop,
the frugal mirror of your eyes
as intangible as the sky above.
You step out into the evening light,
I sip my coffee –
a moment of distraction,
that sends us in a
blowball-tight,
yellow, light green and white,
misunderstood rotation.
Irina Moga
Irina Moga is a Romanian-born Canadian poet and author of several poetry books. Her latest collection of poems, Variations sans palais, published with Éditions L’Harmattan (France), was awarded the inaugural literary prize Dina Sahyouni in 2022. Irina’s work has appeared in literary magazines such as: Canadian Literature, carte-blanche, PRISM International online, Foreign Literary Journal, NYQ Magazine, and elsewhere. Find her on Twitter @pictopoems.