Moon Series - Day 7

Waxing Crescent - 6:00 p.m.

anyway, what happened with the moon
a long time ago, well who knows?
who senses the moon's great age?
but on this, the 7th day,
we find the waxing crescent
earlier than ever
a ghostly shadow in a powder blue sky
neck in neck with the sun
time may have stopped for a moment
like you did, right in your tracks
and, pointing, whispered in utter amazement
look, I found the moon!

Moon Series - Day 6

Waxing Crescent - 7:59 p.m.

We had to chase her down
when I saw a glimmer,
Just one bright slice
between the mountain's spine
and that crop of tall oaks
their branches obscuring
the full Cheshire spectacle
of her crescent grin

And I can't berate myself
for not thinking of this sooner
wending my way
on poorly lit country roads
the moon a beacon
smiling too widely
because we missed her slow emergence
her subtle reveal

but maybe it's better this way
more intoxicating
the fullness to come,
not such a long wait
so we'll drive out each night
to watch this silent dance
and wait for the finale

Moon Series - Day 5

Waxing Crescent - 7:29 p.m.

Cheated out of even the starlight
only clouds, the sound of crickets
and the faint promise of the moon
whose crescent waxes on
beyond the places where we sit

It looks like a different sky
from the last four nights
which were clear as glass
Why is it so warm
compared to yesterday?

Moon Series - Day 4

Waxing Crescent - 7:50 p.m.

I don't ever remember waiting this long
to see the moon
because, who knew,
but this early in the cycle
the mountain blocks it from view
so you pretend to be a monster
while we sit in the dark

Moon Series - Day 3

Waxing Crescent - 7:00 p.m.

Too early
The sky is my favorite color
A smooth blue, like lapis
mingled with the promise of a deeper black
dark enough to see the stars lack power
with the sun still breathing her last good-byes
and the moon, a full hour behind us
Will it show us a glimpse?
Let's go out later tomorrow
lose the element of surprise
and stumble through a thicker darkness
that's when the sky reveals herself
an unclothed morsel
beset with dazzling jewels
I imagine the moon will glimmer up there
a slight crescent
the edge of my nail
I've never felt so anxious to see it
as though to prove the truth of everything
your gold boots glimmer in the flashlight's eye

Moon Series - Day 2

New Moon - 6:50 p.m.

At twilight the sky looks bruised
like a peach too far gone
but now we've moved beyond that
as we wait for the moon
and mosquitoes hold their happy hope
of mid October feasts
and after all the color is gone
the twinkling starts
first one, then two
but even after the bucket of sky
is filled with starlight
still, no moon.

Take a deep breath
follow where I'm looking
I only want a sliver to appear
up from the mountain
as the sun runs on
your face is the earth, ok?

Moon Series - Day 1

New Moon - 7:41 p.m.

There is no moon, so what's new?
The sky, scrubbed clean,
a wash of darkness
sparkling with faint starlight
(only an echo of the moon)
This house looms
a monolith
set in stark relief
all angles and sharpness
against the open dark

Capturing a Songbird

You are Ana who sings
with a strong voice
my little songbird
your fragile resolve is so fleeting
I am the one who hears
in this big place
with ears of truth like corn
rows & rows of it
blocking our view of the road
all flatness and despair
until you sing
and in my head I sing with you
hitting the high notes with ease
at last remembering the melody,
but I am outside of that place
watching you
afraid my teary-eyed pride will startle you
like a sparrow in the brush
forced to take flight
and only for a note, a word, the smallest melody
because you are my baby
I can listen to you sing and sing and sing
I was riding the imagined cadence of your voice
long before you were born

Untitled and Nonsensical

This rage bleeds out
at the wrong times
like werewolves who howl at noon
but forget who they are at sunset

I'm not in control
with or without the moon
tired
of fighting demons
of living in hiding
like those sad mongrel dogs
who forgot themselves
with no will left to hunt
living in purgatory
from self-afflicted punishment

I'm like that, I am
wandering, punishing myself
unforgiving
I am the hardness that cracks in winter
but I'm ready to thaw

Visualizing Wholeness

Visualizing Wholeness
by ToadSoda

I ride the fragile pauses
between deep breaths
into a place
where worry fails
allowing me impossible glimpses
that stretch high above
my heavy realty.
On this magic-carpet ride
I touch your lip
and it draws together
whole, as it was
in my first dream of you.
And I transfer your burden
onto my own face
as any mother would.
The whisper of this vision
must carry me through
until suddenly, I am strong.
Even after the surgeon
works his magic,
even after you wake
in astonished pain
until you smile again
a new smile
and we fly towards wholeness
together.

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