Blue Moon

The morning after you left,

the Moon refused to set.

As the neon sun rose, she – blue marble in a sea of pink sky –

still gazed upon you.

Full and bright,

She would not leave her sister Sun to mourn you alone.

Moon knows what she has done – what she showed you,

and she is not ashamed.

Why should she be?

She is marvelous, splendid, and resplendent.

Had she ever burned you?

Had she ever poisoned you?

 

She began to tug at you a week before

she fully unveiled.

Naked, she climbed high and turned her phosphorescent face toward 

you.

Leaned in on you sighing as Earth groaned under her weight.

You should have looked her directly in the eyes.

 

Not looking is what causes some to crumble –

Caused you to crumble.

Didn’t anyone ever tell you?

Full moons don’t drive people mad,

But the shame and hiding — well,

That will do you in.

The Moon glitters what we hide.

She offers us a chance to surrender,

and if we don’t, our glowing contraband is ripped from us. 

 

Didn’t anyone ever tell you?

Poor child, how could you possibly suffer the weight of her

unless you give up?

How else could you survive her splendor

unless you reverence the fractured reflection mirrored in her face?

How could you know the beauty and function

of your twinkling pieces, until you saw them fully formed by the light of the Moon?

 

So, she, with all of the full moons before her,

Silently absorbs the blame for

all of the ways we cracked under 

The weight and fullness of her gaze, 

beam of her closeness, and

might of her pulling.