Out of Phase
When you are a child
everything is as it should be
no matter what.
A green planet
that circles a yellow sun.
A single moon
that comes, and goes, each month.
Later, you will realize
your parents have a life of their own.
The teachers do not live at school.
Bad people
look perfectly normal.
If there were 2 moons
the tides would pile up-and-up,
swamp us
as we slumber.
Blue moons
would happen more than once,
miracles
become ho-hum.
We’d sing romantic songs
still croon
our soft seductions,
but in the brightness
feel humbler.
feel humbler.
Too shy
to get undone.
Still, their light would shine on us
half a world away,
we’d both look up
and see the sky
the same.
Sharing a view
may be small consolation,
a multiplicity of moons
confusing.
But try to see the lunacy
of 2 full moons,
of intersecting phases.
of intersecting phases.
Still, I am grateful
things turned out as they should.
A sliver of moon
I foretell for you
half a world apart.
A yellow sun
that lights you up
wherever on earth you are.
In my mind’s eye.
And all the more
at night.
