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The Cream Colored Moon


Let’s walk out to the edge

Of the meadow

The edge of the land 

From there

We should be able to see

Our death as planned 

And then, when we’ve seen that fear

Let’s walk back through that

Long meadow grass 

Sweet smelling 

But sharp pointed blades 

Moving, swaying

Giving way as our bodies pass 

My feet get tangled and tugged 

Pulled down 

Held in the undergrowth 

Yet my mind waves free 

You are nowhere and all and nothing, nothing to me 

The tears slide down my cheeks

Moving me, pushing me, thrusting me 

Towards a new dream

I pull my feet from the clinging damp 

The sucking weeds

And step forward into the meadowland 

My eyes look up 

From the soil to see

The full beautiful, soft, cream-colored moon 

As it pulls itself 

From this dark land 

And rises

Gently, gently, ever so gently 

Over the sea 

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