Here I am
your little lost moon.
Sometimes I'm the thumbnail
moon in your mind
and sometimes I am the heaviest
moon, so orange I sink into sycamore.
Mama of high rocky mountains
Mama of glistening granite,
I am the moon of your dream,
shining on liquid memory.
I am every moon ever lost to you:
lemon moon, mint moon,
planting moon, harvest moon,
blue moon. I am the lost
ghoul-moon. Oh Mama,
I am the tear-shaped moon
and I am floating.
Without this pull, a longing
to keep me near you,
I would float away,
missing you.