Friday, October 22, 2021

waning gibbous

cooling moon

shuttered light-well to Oz 

captivated  

driving  walking standing 

poised upon a ledge that has become too comfortable 

what is it 

this change of season? 

is it autumn? 

ding dong the witch is dead autumn 

no 

it is more 

this otherworldly tincture of days 

this moonglow spell of night 

casting ancient dreams from yellow school buses & winged horses 

constellations shift shadows into suspended seconds 

lace underwear, football & fearlessness 

casting visions 

longing to be 10 .. ok ... maybe 15ish

lanky--full with secret words in my pockets

we make out in grass, on beds, on bikes, in rivers . .  because we can 

because we are 15ish

well, 

you can be sixteen with your tamed arrogance & mahogany bones 

the milky way & every nasturtium belong to us 

I know what you look like in mornings 

and can smell you on my skin

innocence seeds trust long fired in the bowels of mordor & mirth 

bodies lithe & limber twined naked--easy 

our tongues play cribbage against lips curious 

and sure 

sure of us 

paused on backs flat upon earth sumac-red-deep 

and 

soft 


suddenly

electric panes of glass slide 

revealing 

home 

in 

the moon


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