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Literature Text

The moon wandered into the morning
like a pale drunk wedge of soap,

it floated into the daylight
like a small broken feather.

Where is the other part of your body?
the sun asked it. You look eaten away.

I lost it in the dark
where the clouds covered the stars, the moon replied.

The sun crept closer. What will you do?
The moon sat on a crooked pine branch. I don’t know.

Go to the shore, the sun told it.
Lower yourself into the water

and let the currents carry you
down and  away from the land and sky.

I go there at the end of each day.
All I’ve lost, I find again in the water.

I’ll go, then, the moon said,
watching the sun move away,

up the long blue hill.
The moon cut through the woods,

passed over the dunes
and neared the shore.  

The waves crashed onto the sand, but further out
the water swayed in swollen rolling motions

and it made the moon feel calm.

Nearby gulls called out to the moon,
jealous of their territory,

mistaking it for a sick bird.
The sun reached the crest of the bluffs

and shooed the gulls away.

Go on, it urged the moon.
The water is sweet and cool and deep,

like your sky filled with stars.

The moon lowered itself into the water,
floating for a moment on the swells,

then with a final look at the dunes and the pines
and the sun,

it let the water pull it down and away.  The sun
watched a long time for the moon

to reappear, out of cowardice or buoyancy,
but it had disappeared as if dropped

into a hole of blueblack dirt.
At dusk several days later,

yawning at the horizon,
glutted on the day's dying colors,

the sun glimpsed the moon
over the trees, full and glowing

as if white-hot,
the wind playing tricks

of perspective as to whether
the branches of the trees were dancing

or if it was the moon.
So, the sun croaked, deep within its throat.

So, the moon laughed.
I know where you’re going.

And I know where you’ve been,
the sun smiled. It took its leave

by flashing colors through the sky in a friendly
goodbye. The moon’s silvery light

played over the water where the sun
had sunk. It spread over the water

and up onto the sand.

There was light
to spare.
"that's what friendship means--sharing the prejudice of experience." --Charles Bukowski
© 2014 - 2024 Anthony-Ryan
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