Losing the Moon
You can lose the moon.
Of its own accord, it drowns
beneath the sea’s horizon,
or evaporates into high noon’s
blue ether. Electrical devices
erase it from night’s blackboard.
Curtained from the dark within
routine glare, you don’t see it
vanish, a shiny coin, spinning
down the sky’s long gutters
into a black hole among the stars.
You forget the jingle of old songs
and rhymes, believing you
can manage moonless, until the orb
hurtles through your window,
a cosmic snowball of luminous ice,
bowling you over with possibilities