You and Me and the Moon
Published in
1 min readMar 15, 2017
The stars are stuck in lockstep mode above the moon.
We met too late — to love you is to love the moon.
Untouchable, though visible to the naked eye
on nights when clouds might pull apart, unglove the moon.
Lustrous, though not exclusively for me, the one
who wakes alone at dawn to mourning dove the moon.
Undulant (within your bounds) — our tidal dance
just sways one way: the sea can’t push or shove the moon.
Months spin into years, loverboy; the end keeps creeping nearer —
swallow hard each new appearance of the moon.
