You can lose the moon.
Of its own accord, it drowns
beneath the sea’s horizon,
or evaporates into high noon’s
blue ether. Electrical devices
erase it from night’s blackboard.
Curtained from the dark within
routine glare, you don’t see it
vanish, a shiny coin, spinning
down the sky’s long gutters
into a black hole among the stars.
You forget the jingle of old songs
and rhymes, believing you
can manage moonless, until the orb
hurtles through your window,
a cosmic snowball of luminous ice,
bowling you over with possibilities
.
•••
3 comments
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A. Philip Armbrister
Quite innovative and well thought out. I liked it from the first read. The concepts here are all accessible.
charles
love this line
“…until the orb hurtles through your window,…”
visceral.
Althea Romeo-Mark
Your poem is filled with wonderful vivid imagery. We lose the moon only temporarily it comes back to us. It is never gone forever. It “hurtles through your window/,a cosmic snowball of luminous ice/,bowling you over with possibilities.” Beautifully stated. The poem awakens ones senses.
Althea
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