the man in the moon 4.26

I try to believe
that your never uttered words
are the crescent moon

with negative space
closepacked with rocks and water
hidden, trapped inside

depths of the mantle
even though it is often
unaccessible

the smile of the man
in the moon is a cold one
lighting night pathways

but never bringing any
warmth to bask upon your skin


when I weep at night

Its never the onions

sliced for supper

still lingering on my hands

long after the dishes are dried,

stacked in neat rows

behind a closed door.

.

You smell of crisp frosted air

and pine needles swept from the dirt path

when the wind rushes past.

.

I layer pepper, salt, spices

hoping to add enough flavor

to the meat on my plate.

.

.

Inspired by http://thefragrancewriter.com/2020/04/05/journey-man/

the median

the sun
dusts the horizon
pink, gold, lavender

a single star
lingers uncertain
whether to stay

the moon
slips
below the horizon

taillights stay
firmly on the right side
of the road

I sleep
in the middle
of our queen sized bed

how we communicate

This must be how it feels
to the tree alone
in the forest,
only the breeze to stroke
her leafy green hair,

to have limbs
rattle and shake,
as she bends or breaks
in the midst of the storm,
broken bits piled in heaps
or scattered
across the lawn,

to fall
and have no one
acknowledge the sound.