I’ll Give You Back the Moon for My Confusion

We walked across the bridge
Away from South Boston
The wind strong off the beach
Into our …no,
There were no missteps in you becoming you
Me becoming me…
Morning, The wind crisp. We sit by the fire.
You lean over, look toward the logs, stretch, the world flies off
Look Mars in ascendance, I think,
Dancing like a ghost over the arctic
And disappears
Into the moon… without a splash, red
Its black canopy.
The moon, ours, engulfs us in it circle, wakes me, breaks through the
Canopy. From its dark face, reflection,
Why call it light, the sill
But stars and light are worlds apart.
A black night retreats from the sparks. I’ll cut a window
Around my face
To hide the moon. What?
Electricity dissipates
Not like in plants…there is no detective here…
I don’t know what I’m doing again
Light grows anyway
In its weight.

A nice reflection, Peter, I enjoyed the read.

Les

Thanks, Les.