Serving House: A Journal of Literary Arts
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SHJ Issue 14
Spring 2016

Aubade with Blood Moon and Wasted Fruit

by Ruth Foley

It could have been another era, you and I
out watching the moon’s slow enrobing,

our neighbors in bed, it seemed, their lights
out except for one in an attic across the street.

How the frogs and crickets were silent for the first
time in weeks, as if they knew some things

require quiet. Maybe it was growing too cold
after a long, desiccating summer. I finished

the sangria we’d been topping all September,
until the citrus gave in and all I tasted 

was plums. That’s how it ends. In the morning,
bruised rinds by the compost, tracks from 

a raccoon drunk on macerated fruit, little left
for daylight. It could request a glass of water

and a nest. It could cover itself with the pile
of drying vines and cuttings. You still slept,

despite your alarm’s restless singing. I might
have stayed another hour if you’d asked.


SHJ Issue 14
Spring 2016

Ruth Foley

lives in Massachusetts, where she teaches English for Wheaton College. Her work appears in numerous web and print journals, including Adroit, Sou’wester, and Valparaiso Poetry Review. She is the author of the chapbooks Dear Turquoise and Creature Feature, and the full-length collection Dead Man’s Float (forthcoming from ELJ). She serves as Managing Editor for Cider Press Review.

“...we have been born here to witness and celebrate. We wonder at our purpose for living. Our purpose
is to perceive the fantastic. Why have a universe if there is no audience?” — Ray Bradbury