The Problem With Loosestrife

I can’t get over to that purple flower without trampling all this goldenrod — to say nothing of the damaged ants, the flushed tanagers. This is the way it’s always been. I see what I want and the world allows me to harm it in pursuit. Look, there’s the racoon I ran over on the way to your house last weekend. And over here, hanging on a hook, the leather jacket that defines my middle age. Desire is a coin I’ve always spent. The moon floats over in a rage of brightness as if that could keep it safe.

Charles Rafferty’s most recent collection of poems is The Smoke of Horses (BOA Editions, 2017). His poems have appeared in The Southern Review, The New Yorker, Gettysburg Review, and Ploughshares. Currently, he co-directs the MFA program at Albertus Magnus College and teaches at the Westport Writers’ Workshop.