Moon

 

Moon

(And It Went Like)

 

Is there a need 

in the world of men for you?

Nothing doing, but a few

scant interactions, idle breathed

gossips of fuss across your desk

and from hollow trivia - there's no rest,

no yellow half-moon, large and low,

no days of fast for their days are slow

that watched you grow

into more of a boy than a man.

You forgot to strut, balloon bellied,

in grey bearded thickets

with all the bilious zeal

of a performing circus seal

who clap for plankton.

You gained your cove with pushing prow

some years ago 

and they mostly flocked –

but some wintered here

after ice queens had combed your hair

while you were startled by flying fish

that dance and twist

their last moments upon desert decks

out of want for sex.

You let slushy sand through fingers drip

until she came at last to steady ship,

both wondering - and it went like

our moon will be forever this time -

but how to sup and where to dine,

in a voice less loud but subtly clever

and she sends messages:

It can be anywhere,

even in the Moon, 

as long as we’re together.