One poem by Peggy Trojan

BOOK LOUSE

Reading at the dining table,

I saw from the corner of my sight,

one of the periods moving

across the page. 

I watched it make its way

over the paper.

It had some destination in mind.

Did not run around like ants do,

but headed straight east

onto the tablecloth’s

four feet of white desert.

I could not think of how to help it,

as once I saved an orange

caterpillar from sure death

by turning him at the edge

of a hot two lane blacktop,

heading him back into the grass.

But this speck of being?

Where did it come from?

Where was it going?

In the vast world,

would it ever find a lover,

or a friend?

Peggy Trojan, former English teacher, enjoys retirement in the north woods of Wisconsin. Widely published in journals and anthologies: Boston Literary Magazine, Naugatuck River Review, Echoes, Your Daily Poem, Wilda Morris Poetry Challenge and others.  She is the author of two chapbook collections: Everyday Love (2014) and Homefront (Evening Street Press, 2015). Her full length poetry collection, Essence (Portage Press, 2015), is the most recent publication.