Dinner

A whimsical moon poem

Photo by Just Another Photography Dude on Pexels

I dangle my legs
off the yellow glow
that burns the night.
I take a chunk of
moon and
grind it with a
pepper mill
into a thousand
glowing pieces,
and I take the sun
that I shredded into
angel hair pasta
this afternoon, and
eat a nice meal
while I watch the stars
blink
on and
off.
When I can’t stand
the heat of the pepper
or the pasta
or the moon,
I reach for night
and quickly drink it.
Feeling content,
I tumble…