On the Moon

Moon flow silver I suppose

Moon go shiver along the space
inside your elbows

and I too, somehow
awake now at 4:42

the sole occupant of space
and haze and all
the inbetweens.

I hada healthy sheen earlier,

this morning when the fire still burned
and lace light I lay upon the blue

so simple now

yellowed yesterday’s news–

I know to die dignified

and full through the window.

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3 Comments on “On the Moon”

  1. Ruth says:

    This poem makes me feel physically ill. But I’m morbid and like it anyway.

  2. drizdan says:

    No, I haven’t.

    Though it’s interesting that you see that in this poem, as I never did. To me it was always about the moon.

  3. Ruth says:

    Have you ever watched a person die? Seen the mottling of the skin, listened to the death rattle?

    This poem makes me feel physically ill. I don’t know if you intended it to.


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