15: Dec 2016 #16 - Lunar

Authored by Susan Konz


by Susan Konz

Look at the moon tonight
she says, her fingers wrapped
in my hair & it’s there,
shaped like the firefly of ember
when I drag my cigarette
before I stub it into sand.
The moon, though, persists.
Listen to me:  this morning I woke,
looked at my body – my tits vestigial, soft,
while whole narratives fled my mind. I tried
to hold onto the shapes but now
I’ve figured it out, forgetting
is a part of the dream itself.
I think about her, less her lips
than the inside of her mouth,
let that want wash over me
then subside, like tides
or the moon, her hands, 
there’s some continuity in it – 
but mercy lets me let it go 
when I find I cannot 
inhabit her, myself.