Mama

How is it?

You pull and take—

yet under your control

we barely find, not make,

tomorrow, so slim,

my heart tries to keep

rhythm within, do you…

know why we cry?

Mama?

Um, yes, forgive me,

I ask, as you dance

across the sky.

Come Close Again II

A Dream

The sidewalks through town bustled as I stumbled along, head down, observing the patterns made by discarded gum on the cement. A sound not unlike gears grinding overhead caught my attention. There the moon spun, massive, no further away than you’d expect to find the clouds. Stunned, perhaps struck dumb even, I looked to the others nearby, but none seemed to notice. Then, in the distance, perhaps a mile away, I saw the first transit. A man was pulled up to the hovering moon overhead. And then scanning the horizon, others were also being drawn to the moon’s surface, yet those around me continued going about their business, unaware. With longing guiding my actions, I leapt up, and soon found myself pulled into the sky, leaving this world behind.

Dances For Who?

That night Luna

wore a cloud like a robe

I exposed my grandiosity,

believing at first

the dance was for me.

No silly!

Clearly for Sol only

this performance.

As if I had stumbled

into my parent’s bedroom

at the worst moment,

blushing, I turned

and rushed back inside.

Dear Moon

I wish you were closer,

not that it would be good

for the tides, but that

the despair I render

in whispers might

reach you.

I know you keep watch

over all our dramas,

and have no need

to hear what I hold up,

this typical,

and in many ways

boring existential crisis.

From your seat far above,

those wounded in war

and earthquake take

the focus, rightly so.

None the less, I hold

out these, my meager ordeals

this cold dark night

and confess certain

vulnerabilities.

I wish you were just

a little bit closer.