i blame the moon for shifting.
wearing manhole cover like mask.
the tide rose last night & lifted me
from my clothes. dough wandering for oven.
i blame the night for leaving me
moth-eyed & eager. i blame the sun
for siphoning color. he fills jars
with bruises & noses. i track the moon
on an app. the app alerts me when
the moon might come down & cut
all the buttons from my clothes
or might press a dream of you 
into my head. i'm not hungry at all
it's just the waxing. inhereitable swell.
take my shoes off & fill them with rocks 
so they won't float. rise my mouth out
with salt. read the tea leaves
that say exactly what i knew they would:
he is not the lover you want him to be.
so i re-arrange them to say: you are not
the lover you want to be. if it is my fault
then there's less to mourn.
the moon is known to gnaw telephone wires
during tense conversations but sadly
now most of us talk through satelittes.
i'm blaming the moon for how long it takes
to stretch from one year to the next.
this time last year i brought each planet 
a flower each night in the hope that one
would take pity on me & make me a moon.
all i really want is to move water. to glow
in a non-threatening way. to play i spy 
with the distant dirt. kiss a boy
in the dark who thinks nothing
of celesitial alignments. we all cried
last sunday as venus entered pisces.
it's just a sea shell you know? the moon
used to be worn by a creature before
it got all bold & glorious. if she can do that
i can certainly move on. my heart is full
of water. i don't want to be an ocean.
i want to be a creature whose body
runs on glass or sand or even just soil.
anything but all this tug. water damage 
from the sea. kelp clutter in the bathroom.
moon taking a bath. kneeling down
to grandmother-clean her. darling 
it is alright. do what you want with me.  

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