The Moon

A yellow moon pauses where the new hotel will rise.

Light bends off a sheet of copper and spatters on an idle beam.

 

The street slants sharp behind, its splintering poles galleon masts,

each sunk deeper than the last in the sheerness of the turf.

 

A staff of wires strings the poles together, and

the yellow moon nests on E like an unbroken whole note.

 

__________________________________________

 

I watch this jaundiced light across the boulevard.

Only I can hear the ringing E and sweat the fever of the too large moon.

 

When the tower opens I'll sail up to the highest floor,

to gaze down at where I gazed from.

 

I'm leaning against a telephone pole, eyes watering.

I take a call and pace a little circle on the walk below.

I look back up and the moon is white and rising.

Reviews

[blondie45]

Why are you sooo good at writing?? its not fair.. :( I want to be like this lol

[Thaddius]

ha thanks I'm so much older than you that's probably why (I just turned 25!). Just wrote a new one check it out!

[blondie45]

dude that's hot.. well your writing anyway :)

[Sunny]

"....When the place opens I'll sail up to the highest floor,
to gaze down at where I gazed from.." This is my favorite part of your poem, it sorta says that one day you'll look back at where you started and see how far you've come! Nice work, keep writing! :D

[Thaddius]

thanks thats vey nice of you to say. yea it's basically a way of saying me looking forward looking back.

[Sunny]

you're welcome! I enjoyed it!

[emmajoy]

'The street slants sharp behind, its splintering poles galleon masts, ~ each sunk deeper than the last in the sheerness of the turf.'

Only one review - madness! These phrases are miniatures in motion set to music.. that E nestling in the wires and - all the while that moon is slowly, gloriously, changing its coloured face.

[Thaddius]

thanks very much for the kind words