‘April Moon Poem’

April 18, 2014

Moon, oh moon, you opal cocktail waitress

drawing in slurry men with your magnetism.

A Julie, a Jaime, a Stephanie, a lover

devoted to brilliance like the necklaces you sport

for status and sleazy looks. You are a year

removed from high school but your webbing reaches

like rude boys at dinner tables or spider things in a corner.

The men all high with supper in their bellies

behold you but don’t know how to cradle you.

They’d extinguish you to rot unlit, unloved

in kitchens and eventual bedrooms

and all the lonely palaces of marriage.

But tonight you are a savior in an apron

for lost travelers and those who sit in sand

and look up at the numbers near your halo,

ever innumerable, always throbbing

and winking like the waitresses you are,

as warm and safe and distant as you must be.


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