moon skin fantasy

Waverly SM
Sep 3, 2018 · 3 min read
photo by waverly sm

waxing

imagine a carapace, a shell. I am thinking of the moon,
cratered and starswept, her skin pitted with scars.
great chunks of debris drifting lazily by, colliding,
breaking, making or missing their mark. I am trying
to be like the moon, in orbit around this arbitrary planet;
she is tougher than me, when the asteroids hit.
all the telescopes in the world won’t tell you
the moon doesn’t flinch. she knows her place
in the order of things, catching what light she can
from fires that burn in brighter eyes than mine.


full

you tore across the sky and left
behind a conflagration; as the clouds broke
into ash I looked up unflinching,
saw the last remains of what you touched,
and didn’t think at all. I was trying to be
like the moon, insensate and slow,
my stone skin a shutter drawn to the world.
you were warm, so I cracked the window,
quietly let you in.

I took your hand, you said,
pulled you into orbit. you were thinking
of the moon, or something like it: pale and cold,
inert, reaching from nowhere and nothing.
hold on, you said, we’re going home, and god,
I wanted my home to be you.


waning

imagine a monument, trapped in orbit.
there is no life on the moon: just silence
and a planted flag.

once upon a time, a meteor fell to earth
and ended the world. full stop. next chapter:
we are waiting for our sentence down in the dirt
and when it falls we will be silenced. I am trying
to be like the moon, thick-skinned in the shadow
of certain death. the cold machinery of space
turns as it will, and I am trying to hold my course,
irrespective of you, or armageddon.


new

her scars are named for oceans. every crater a sea,
salt in the wound. I was trying to be like the moon,
to wear my pain like haute couture, more to do
with the name than the thing itself. but you,
you wanted to be a star, blazing nuclear white
to drive the emptiness out. you wanted worlds
to turn around you, moons to amplify your light,
the heart of your own perfect system, shielded
with its bodies from blame.

you never once saw me, looked inward
and thought you found the sky.


blue

we are not supposed to heal so fast.
the truth is that I grieved for you already,
circling you fearful and slow, waiting
for you to see your way to the end.

call me what you want. the words
don’t matter. it’s all in what they mean,
and the meaning was never a surprise,
not to me. you will always know who I was,
sure, but I’ll always know what you did.

I loved you the way the moon loves
a meteor: I saw you coming,
and still I let you happen.

Written by

says a lot of words.

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