Love

There was never a moon, 

The sky, consisting of little specks 

of white light and the darkness 

between. That’s it. There was no 

moon. It was complete 

at the time, that sky with its 

little specks of white light 

and the great darkness that 

commenced 

oh, depth and eternity. 

You know, the constellations are a story 

it’s a man with an arrow 

who has lost his spoons 

and without his spoons 

he is lost. But the story ends 

and he never finds his spoons. 

This story was created by a man 

sitting alone. He sat there, before 

there were stories, so near to night. 

And the stars were enough then, 

there was never a moon. 

But once there it was, 

round, pale. 

It appeared like a locked door 

appears

after an old brass key. 

She didn’t call it moon when she saw it 

She felt it move the sea inside of her 

She felt it move the sea she walked beside. 

Her body rippled as if it had turned 

from stone to glass, 

so her breath changed, her steps changed, 

her whole breadth of motions 

changed to protect the glass.