the moon don’t shine but’ll snag your light like a hot younger sibling.

 

stare down a grease-stained mirror & speak

                                  lunar maria lunar maria lunar maria

‘til your tongue knots like a cherry stem.

 

name every pock in your riddled cheek

after a state of mind, use language long

lost or not yet

 

learned. shelled in fondant, you’re a frontier

unrealized but already claimed. oh, summer-melon flush!

 

you’ve mistaken it for flattery.

 

nothing is out of reach when you can’t feel

the ends of your body              all silica & salts.           

the moon slows & you, little linebacker, are always

too rough, won’t live

here long enough to explain

the gunpowder.