Friday, June 17, 2011

For You The Moon

Sometimes when I hold my hands up to the sky, I wonder if could fit the moon in the spaces between my fingers.
But there is no wondering needed, because I know that as long as I
Eat my vegetables
Kneel by my bed every night
And never let a bad thought fight its way into my mind
I will have lunar dust on my hands.

Even as the moon came hurdling towards me I didn't anticipate what would happen as it fell into my hands, my wrists snapping under the weight
Exposed now were my milky white bones
Matching my milky white teeth because I brushed them so hard
Just so I could have the moon like you said I would.

Now as I sit on the ground in a pool of disappointment, all I have between my fingers is air.
Often I have thought of words that can encompass my true core
Naive was never on that list before now.