We don't know shit about the moon,
her wants or desires, what she feels when
she looks at us across the expanse,
so green and blue and teeming with life.
And us, like a giant eye looking back, plotting
our next invasion. We look up into endlessness
and there she is.
Patient. Steady. Loyal.
We planted a flag on her and we think that makes her ours.
She will never be ours.
I remember the night we lay in the bed
of your old Chevy truck looking up at her,
as still and lonely as a lost dime on the sidewalk.
The air was crisp and our breath floated
dreamily from our mouths like bouncing astronauts
in zero gravity. I felt weightless that night, as if
you and I and the old Chevy were riding moonbeams
to a place that could be ours. But I lifted my hand
and the tip of my finger covered her face. I knew then
that nothing in this universe
is steady.
Luminous (with nuance and allusion and sensuality)
Enjoyed.
Enamored of the moon, I'd venture only two changes: 1) transpose "lost" and "dime"; 2) replace "steady" with "too close", if that would work.
Good stuff.
So nice, Charlotte. I enjoyed this.
Like all of it and the last line is so so strong. ** Beautiful.
Good poem- strong closing.
Thanks to all, I appreciate your time and comments.
Strannikov, good suggestions. Thanks! I've never been crazy about the last word "steady" but the right one hadn't occurred to me yet. :)
Very nice, Charlotte. Lots of notable lines. Love the title too. Is Literary Orphans a great zine or what?
Thanks, Ray. LO is one of the best and a favorite of mine, even more so now that several writers I admire are involved, including you! Mike Joyce gave me some invaluable insight and advice when he accepted my first poem a few years ago so, of course, I idolize him. :)
Great one, Charlotte. I especially like,
"as still and lonely as a lost dime on the sidewalk."
Thanks, Tim!
Wonderful poem, Charlotte!
*
Thanks, Bill. xo