Tuesday, October 2nd, 2018 – 10:01 pm
Waning Crescent
Not that I can see it beneath the saturated sky,
nature’s drop ceiling descending on this autumn night
like a heavy shroud. The crescent hangs somewhere far above
a gleaming, impartial jewel
Maybe the moon feels isolated behind the clotted clouds
trying to to connect with the dark earth and all of us
who scramble along with false moons shining through flat glass
I’ve stopped romanticizing the sky
but I still like a clear night and a bright bullet of stone
that’s why I keep looking up
It was so much better when you were here asking questions
impatient with the clouds. Now I’m lonelier than the moon
and all its dull colorless magic
Life was a mystery. It was a given.
I think the moon might fall.