Moon

treadmills,

racing thoughts

aware of impending loss,

hearts pump at their own pace,

but face to face

I forget to

slow

gentle

patient

in the psych ward

with grip socks

a rite of passage

you remind me of the moon,

sliver in a limitless sky,

universe you don’t share

is it me

or the certainty of an end,

good enough to pretend

finite enough to forget

Ruminating reflection

of the sea and the earth

and me,

now stuck on a memory

of collecting

cow bones

and begging the cops

to arrest that man,

faceless killer

with bones

like those I held

but they tell me to be a good girl

men always tell me to be a good girl

do not love me,

they say,

do not love me,

but stay

until you love

nothing but the moon

4/12/23