To the movers
          paid in pizza
 
          and sweating
          in a darkening stairwell,
 
          no moonlight sonata,
          but a moon, of a kind, imposing
 
          its shadowy grandeur and girth,
          its unrelenting pull upon the earth
 
          felt along make-do ropes, straps,
          lines that quiver and work
 
          deep into the flesh, deeper
          groans, mother-of-gods, and another
 
          concerted heave to surmount
          a single step, this
 
          slow inglorious agony
          of ascension.
 
 
 
 
 
MIKE WHITE is the author of How to Make a Bird with Two Hands (Word Works), which was awarded the 2011 Washington Prize. His poems have appeared in magazines including Poetry, Ploughshares, The New Republic, The Threepenny Review, and FIELD. Originally from Montreal, he now lives in Salt Lake City and teaches at the University of Utah.