June 23rd was the day of the super moon, the day before
was super moon’s eve. Well,
someone must have had too much to drink last night
because the street gutters are full
of something that comes from craters – so I am thinking about
how you said you see my face in the sky
when the dark clouds open up and begin to cry,
how you explained that we can make flowers out of this
watering can of tears or else I will just let them
evaporate. I never know if I am in
a boat or in your bed, if every black coil is a spider in its
web or my hair: you would tell me that I have enough
loose strands to knit the moon a sweater,
plus one for each planet and sun.
It is me, and it is you, we are what make the sky –
other people is how these oceans have gotten in our eyes.