The moon showed up at my house this afternoon
Isn’t it a little early, I asked when
I answered her knock. I didn’t want to wait,
she shrugged. She was so beautiful standing
there on the porch I could only invite her
in. I knew the neighbors would gossip, the news
would get back to my spouse, but she also loves
the moon and her main upset would be that she
wasn’t home to greet her too. My spouse works hard,
but devotedly follows the moon at night.
The moon squeezed her orb into my living room—
she’s bigger than she looks from far away—sat
next to a window so the afternoon light
could filter over her. She glowed. She faced half-
way away, so she appeared as a waxing
crescent. I offered her a cup of oolong
tea. She returned a musical laugh as if
my suggestion was charming but absurd:
After all, what do I have to offer the moon?
I longed to unburden my predicaments.
It felt like we were old friends, just catching up,
but of course, I’d never been this close to her,
inhaling the scent of night sky. And what could
my disconsolations mean to her, whose view
is so vast? Shy then, I stayed quiet, chiding
How stupid! The moon is sitting right beside
you, and your tongue is mush? As if she heard me,
she offered a kind wink, then began to hum.
© Terry Wolverton
Terry Wolverton is author of thirteen books of poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction,
including Embers, a novel in poems, and Insurgent Muse: art and life at the Woman’s
Building, a memoir. She has also edited sixteen literary compilations. Terry has received
a COLA Fellowship from the City of Los Angeles, a Publishing Triangle award for
nonfiction, and a Fellowship in Poetry from the California Arts Council, among other
honors. She is the founder of Writers At Work, a creative writing studio in Los Angeles,
and Affiliate Faculty in the MFA Writing Program at Antioch University Los Angeles.
http://terrywolverton.net
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