The moon in the afternoon.
Tiles cannot hush it. I tuck away all the signs
of it existing. My hands can make clouds,
but I cover it with a towel. It was closer
and easier, and wet. Rain for free.
Watching the moon when there are no stars
is a traumatic experience.Painfully geometric
darkness washes us, water.
Now I know the moon is only a plughole.
I bathe in the sky like men in a heart,
breaking the shells of the bubbles.
What a perfect way to waste
the afternoon in the moon.
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