Serious Moonlight
Camille Guthrie Serious moonlight fell brightly on the mountains tonight Elegant moonlight fell loudly on the deer asleep in the yard Broken moonlight fell splendidly on the swing set Moody moonlight fell hard on the weedy pond Pretty moonlight fell recklessly on the garden beds Fierce moonlight fell thoughtfully on the recycling bins Actual moonlight fell wildly on the coyotes falling on the rabbit Personal moonlight fell purposely on my desk and books Ancient moonlight fell perfectly on my bed sheets Modern moonlight fell roughly scattering my thoughts awfully Bowie died last night his exquisite alien soul has taken off You are with another and I’m falling repeatedly Shattered by this silently falling terrible moonlight from “Bildungsroman” Malachi Black i.m. Scott David Campbell (1982-2012)
Streetlights were our stars, hanging from the midnight in a planetary arc above each empty ShopRite parking lot—spreading steam-bright through the neon dark-- buzzing like ghost locusts, trembling in the chrome trance of an electrical charge nested in each exoskeleton-- pulling, pooling a single syllable of light from the long braid of the powerlines sighing above us as we climbed through bedroom windows with our hair combed and our high-tops carefully untied-- as we clung to vinyl siding, as we crawled crablike across rooftops, edging toe-first toward the gutters so as not to rouse the dogs—as we crept down onto cold drainpipes through the lightning in our lungs, leaping at last into our shadows and at last onto the lawn, landing as if in genuflection to the afterhours fog-- fluorescent as the breath we left beside us on the train tracks as we walked each toward the others, toward the barebulb glow of stardust on the dumpsters in the vacant late-night, lost |