mister moon

I ran into him head on tonight;
shards of windshield glittered in my eyelids;
once conscious
fingers softly scanned without deepening the embedded.

Where were you oh mister moon?
Your luminescent ivory refracted beautifully
in the sea green shards on my dashboard.
You were smiling beyond my peripheral vision.

Mister moon, who taught you how to paint?
Who taught you how to interpret
your tints and tones on his lifeless face
hanging loosely, limply from his neck?
His hair moved in slow motion from the wind
on his upside down head
dangling from his window.

Last night, mister moon,
you rode on the edges
of smiling silver faces
on pieces of coal
traveling to the power plant
on hunchbacked train cars.
I watched you pass safely
from behind my steering wheel
until the signal lights quit clambering.
You followed me
in my rear view mirror.
Yes, closer than you appeared.

But tonight
the smile-less are at a dead pan stop
bathed in you and blood
with no hope of the next bottle of whiskey
correcting anything.

Mister moon,
your vanilla face
paints my effigy in silhouette,
and collects in sea green bits of
windshield scattered like stars
on an asphalt sky.

Reviews

[dartanyon jonez]

I'm just learning my way around this site, so I checked out this piece of yours because it was entered into a contest (so I could figure out how the contests work).

"bathed in you and blood
with no hope of the next bottle of whiskey
correcting anything."

Those were the most powerful lines of the piece, in my opinion. They summed up the whole piece beautifully-although dark. Tragically beautiful. Great read.

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

I wonder why the body finds death a better companion than life. I have been so frightened by it that it's sobered me...and I don't drink. This is a very sobering piece and still it is not enough to scorn the need of death...I once thought there was beauty in death...the relief of pain...then I learned the pain doesn't leave it just transfers to the next.

[m.s.early]

Indeed Queenie, once I realized that life not only wasn't about me, but also not the end of existence, death and life both held a different meaning.

[DaughterNature]

Wow, this is awesome. Few notes, though. Should the name "mister moon" be capitalized? Also, the first stanza is so striking because the super-strong image is created with "simple" language. Compare that with the second stanza and the final stanza: words like "effigy," "luminescent," and "refracted" stick out strangely.

[Kai Rollins]

Addiction eh....it offers nothing more from the start to the end of it all. This made me think. Thanks for this

[m.s.early]

(: thank you kia. i completely concur :)

[MoriartyMesa]

I found this, well. Not to be too honest, a bit preachy, that ain't saying I didn't like it. It had a great deal of things that would make someone take a hard look in the mirror. But I found it, well, a bit Christian, if it that is not off sides.


Still I liked it,

[m.s.early]

although i don't follow the christian inference or find any imperative judgments i do appreciate the time you've taken to comment. I will say this though... when you wake up wondering if you're dead and look over and see a childhood friend dangling from a window and wonder if he's dead... it can be a religious experience.... and sadly, still not enough for that look in the mirror.

[Rita L. Sev]

Wow - the images your poem creates are wonderfully (and sadly) vivid. This is the trouble with addictions... there is a tortured beauty that fills a need, even though it always comes with a side of shame... Excellent piece, Xavier.

[m.s.early]

(: thank you Rita. your thoughts seem well aware of the issue :)

[m.s.early]

The narrator is admitting to his audience of succumbing to an uncontrollable compulsion to drink even though it is causing destruction in his path. Even in the near-death experience of the unsuspecting victim, he finds beauty in the broken glass, similar to an addict minimizing and glorifying irrational actions while denying the disease.

In the last two verses the narrator reveals his awareness of his condition by acknowledging that there will be another bottle of whisky and it will have nothing better to offer. The moon (or the disease) paints his effigy in silhouette signifying his self-loathing brought about by the guilt of his actions and inability to control his drinking.

[Claire in VA]

Profound imagery, Xavier.
Well-done.
The part about "his upside down head dangling from his window" struck a tender chord; my dad was in a very similar crash; it could have been his head instead of his arm. In fact, the imagery here nauseates me. I did smile a wee bit, though, when you said that the moon was following "closer than 'he' appeared." Ha!
This is one of your best.
Did you mean to write "hunched back" instead "hunch backed?" You may want to check into that; I couldcould be mistaken.

[m.s.early]

Thank you for reading, Claire. Thanks for pointing that out. I corrected it :)

[Claire in VA]

Uh-oh. I just looked it up, and the site I checked said "hunchbacked" with no space is correct. Next time I'll check first. Oops.......Claire

[m.s.early]

lol... i should've checked too. I got it this time... (i think) :)

[redflutterby]

Vivid in its imagery...the terrible price of driving under the influence. You are quickly becoming one of my favorite writers here. Fantastic piece...

[m.s.early]

You are very kind red :) I'm glad you're enjoying it. You're one of my favorites too :)

[Mockingbird]

this is a tragic moment not to be taken lightly. coming out of this alive might not even be the experience that makes one stop drinking. the use of the word effigy denotes self-hate. the imagery is gruesome if you really picture the scene. sea green shards sounds pretty but the stuff being imbedded in your face is a horrible illustration. sea green will now have negative connotations. this is a powerful poem and teaches a lesson. each line is pithy.

[m.s.early]

Thank you for your passionate review mockingbird. You captured much of the essence I was trying to convey :)