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ONE WAY
There’s not much to this
poem, really: an ice blue
streetlight above a
lonely corner at
the intersection of x
and y, anywhere
in the Anyhow
Town, America of your
choice: the snow flowing
around it like a
flurry of a million white
moths who’ve mistaken
it for their god, or
just the moon, maybe, the whole
moment floating there,
suspended, it seems,
in time and space, above a
sign that reads ONE WAY.
Jason Ryberg
Jason Ryberg is the author of eighteen books of poetry, six screenplays, a few short stories, a box full of folders, notebooks and scraps of paper that could one day be (loosely) construed as a novel, and, a couple of angry letters to various magazine and newspaper editors. He is currently an artist-in-residence at both The Prospero Institute of Disquieted P/o/e/t/i/c/s and the Osage Arts Community, and is an editor and designer at Spartan Books. His latest collection of poems is Kicking Up the Dust, Calling Down the Lightning (Grindstone Press, 2023). He lives part-time in Kansas City, MO with a rooster named Little Red and a Billy-goat named Giuseppe and part-time somewhere in the Ozarks, near the Gasconade River, where there are also many strange and wonderful woodland critters.