for all those fools out
pacing streets & straddling corners.
blame the moon
when elbows & knees
search for you
under the downy comforter.
blame the moon
when you must unlearn your past,
that ‘yes’ & ‘no’ can mean
the same thing.
blame the moon
when you stare at the light fixture before
bed & notice it is shaped like a breast,
all chrome nipple & frosted cup.
blame the moon
when you can’t recognize yourself,
all flat hair & squint
in the bathroom light.
blame the moon
when your voice hovers, a whisper,
like the echo of wine glasses
blame the moon
for this night is nothing but a felt-tip
drawing, a rendering of
that time when you were in love.