Tuesday, May 30, 2017

MIDNIGHT BLUES

You don't know
a lot, 

but you think 
it's safe to assume 
that

all things 
are desperate—

to open up 
and show you
what they've got. 

You suspect—
there are 
all kinds of feelings 

you haven't met 
the words for yet.

Last night, 
you could
see the shiny 

milkwhite 
quarter moon,

ringed 
with tiny
forever stars

and cradling 
the ghost 
of 

the full moon 
in its spindly arms
and felt 

willing to bet—
someone 
or something 

was 
trying to forget 

everything 
that has 
ever happened,

and yet, in the process—
inadvertently 
thinking of something 

really big
that hasn't yet.