MoonLune

I wish I was light every day. Broken wing, child’s play, the flutter like a flame against the bones that hold me up

The pit grows without me, carving, and goading me. I gasp as my face meets the earth like the horns of a ram. I sink into microscopic shells. I eat the fruit before I wash it. I hear the gap between the floor and the tile like a heart, I search.

Your face shifts under bright winter sun. One layer and another like kaleidoscope shift. If my hands could move faster in the cold I could find you. You told me about your grandfather pulling at the tears in the veil, through them you peeked, wouldn’t you want things just like this? You do, I can see it in the shape of your eyes.

Your cells maneuver to take me. At the back of my throat, a cranberry click. Out of nothing, spaces where I travel to and from. It’s a sickening lurch, desire and absence.

When my own cells turned the pain reached the ether with a kick and a scream, two children in a headlock, one scratched and the other bruised.I wrap myself like a bundle of sticks and twine. Pain for beloved things.

The chasm tries to sew itself shut, trawling, mining, collecting. It’s alive without me. I can see the water stain behind the paint where the ceiling fell down. All my paths are wondering and wandering through smoke and hedge maze. I feel your thumbprint reach me through my sweater, I’m under every light, every glass, every flip of a page, cherry stain,and coffee cup. Crawl down for the summer crawl down for sleep. The tug at my hair like the pull of a puppet, I sting, but I reach.