Early in the day,
when the sun is still lounging in its bed of clouds
and the moon is casting blue-black light
preparing to add rouge to its love’s fair skin for a finally that hasn’t arrived,
I find hair stuck to my neck
leaving thin ribbons across my cheeks,
to my collar bone

While the moon is flamboyant,
adding a screaming red
to the awakening dawn
the sun is here before her time,
I peel the strands away
and rub at the empty river beds left

The self-conscious sky is the color of beets now,
and the moon leaves,
his work is finished,
he can retire

The blush drains out of the sky’s face,
blue remains  

I close my eyes
and peel back the dawn.

Blush comes back and drains again
the moon comes from the west
black and blue,
light made for pale-skinned beings.

The sun is still biding her time,
she knows the world wakes to her,
not the dreamy shadow planet
who doesn’t even have an atmosphere

I keep the night in my subconscious,
until the curtains are swept back-
exposing the thin skin of my lids to glaring light-
filling my eyes with brilliant orange.