___ days before i move

i keep greeting people with numbers 
& yesterday with the family all
around i said 10 when i really meant 11.
last night after we all got home 
a whole forest grew not too far from
my apartment. of course i wandered into
it because who can resist a forest--
each trunk huddled together like
a waiting room. under a weighty evergreen
i drew two fingers across the dirt 
just to find that it was sapphire 
blue eye shadow. the palette i tossed
years ago when i stopped assembling my face.
the bark asks for its makeup done so
i rub the blue powder on my thumbs--
the mud comes in skin tones-- viscous 
& pale i smooth the foundation between
the veiny creases of the bark. i tell the 
trees too that i'm moving & when they 
ask where i forget. they ask to do 
my makeup so i'll be ready. we're in
the aisle at the supermarket & everyone is
eyeing us up-- why is there a boy here?
but the survalence cameras don't pick
up on me because i'm moving soon.
i say 11 days when i mean 8. 
i still get nervous when i walk there-- 
like i'm going to give myself away.
stuffing my pockets with concealer 
& blush, the store is empty. the parking
lot is empty. the moon leans down & 
says do me next, do me next.
whatever woods there was was fickle
& gave itself away to the football field
that's usually back there. the astroturf
impersonating green-- i tear it up in
handfuls. it bleeds black liquid eyeliner 
all over my hands. wash in the sink.
i cry because it's too fast & everyone
keeps insisting that i look presentable.
wiping my hands on the fronts of me pants
to try to rid my hands of blues & purples. 
there was a full moon this week &
i apologize to her for the blame.
she understands & tell me to stay up with her.
chapped skin from space-- she lets me 
smooth the concealer across each crater.
i tell her that i don't mind her 
topography but she says that this is 
only for this night. that she has someone
to impress. i have to move a few things
in my trunk but afterwards i held
my fingers laced together & asked if 
she wanted to step down. i told her 
that wherever i move that i'm going
to need the moon & i don't know if
there's a moon like her in the city.
she laughs & agrees, stepping more
dainty than anyone would surmise 
a giant rock could. knees into chest
i closed the trunk. not long now.
not long now. wash the cobalt shadows
out from the creases of eyelids.
oh restless moon. not long.