Through the windshield,
the moon hangs low
and enormous in a sky
of frozen obsidian
We sidewind through
the neighborhood
for a better look at
her face
It is harder than it used to be
to see the moon
She materializes in and out of
the rows of houses, emerges
from the silhouette of one
pruned hedge before diving
behind another
We chase her
to the top of the hill,
passed the last lonely
skeleton of a streetlamp
where she glowers down over
the rooftops uninterrupted
like the massive, golden
eye of God.
– mrg
Apr 7, 2020
Apr 7, 2020 at 10:12 PM UTC
Through the windshield,
the moon hangs low
and enormous in a sky
of frozen obsidian
We sidewind through
the neighborhood
for a better look at
her face
It is harder than it used to be
to see the moon
She materializes in and out of
the rows of houses, emerges
from the silhouette of one
pruned hedge before diving
behind another
We chase her
to the top of the hill,
passed the last lonely
skeleton of a streetlamp
where she glowers down over
the rooftops uninterrupted
like the massive, golden
eye of God.
– mrg
