I chase you,
Moon.
Tumbling down
Highways in the night.
Dark hills rise on the
Sides of windy roads,
Shadowing
Muted burning headlights
Of tin can travelers
Forcing themselves through
A velveteen time of day.
Dissolving the hours.
(They sink into dewy ground.
Settle amidst decaying leaves.
Thin, transparently-veined layers of life,
A shed exoskeleton revealing tender pink flesh.)
But you,
A suspended dense sphere,
Sitting on sky pedestal, perched.
The glint in a bird’s eye,
A beacon in blackness.
Body smoothed by routine rotations.
Your luminescent pitted, pale breast
Maintains only dusty surface wounds.
Radiant glow saturates your frozen,
Vacuous home nearest to your flesh.
Yearning to
Grab fistfuls of your
Silver soil. Desperately
Reaching skyward with
Thin limbs bathed in your light
That shines on the world entire, savoring
A personal slice. Clamoring towards
Your elusive form,
Languishing
In the realization of day break…
You slip. Recede into red-tinged
Cloud mist. Cool curvature melts
In the ire of sunlight.
The Mother