Castro Marina 200901

I blinked and the firework was a flower on the back of my eye, evening star soaring as the moon sank beyond the town wall. Where the sea had been this morning was deep nothingness, holding glassy afloat the lights of the outgoing boats. A moment, and the moon.

Mirror moon

He knelt on the wet grass and looked down at the silver-plated tray.In the darkness he saw the moon’s face reflected. There, I’ve caught it, he whispered. The spirits of the field did not correct him but smiled quietly and pressed forefingers to lips. His eyes were wide and then they closed and he fell to his side. The spirits smiled at him and at the tray. The next morning it would be in the house again, ready aligned to catch the first rays of the moon as they passed through the trees.


Strawberry moon. Wolf moon. Honey moon.
The moon I gazed at, lightly holding your hand,
the dry grass itching through thin cotton.

Dragon moon. Splinter moon. Cherry moon.
The moon you stared at, disentangling your fingers,
the dew beginning to dampen our faces.

Cloud moon. Blood moon. Tearful moon.
The moon we looked beyond, our hands now distant as time and tide
The clouds beginning translucent the sky.

The moon goodbye. The farewell moon.
The moon of a thousand last last looks.
The moon you can see, perhaps you can see now
The moon that is forever ours.