i imagine she tastes of heaven, not swiss cheese

selenocentric

The moon hung precariously close to the earth that night

A fat and lazy mosquito, laden heavy with blood

And I couldn’t stop thinking about touching her

If we drove a little further

If you lifted me up on your shoulders

And I reached a little higher

Maybe my fingertips would just graze the bottom

And she would burst like an egg yolk

The red seeping out of her and staining my skin

Like a zit you can’t resist popping

Or maybe if I was a bit taller

And a bit more cautious

I could pluck her from the sky like a ripe fruit

And cradle her gently in my arms

Persuade the wind to blowing lightly across her face

To cool her down

In all her throbbing, feverish madness

And when I fell asleep the same night

Wrapped up in my blankets

I dreamt of her
Wrapped up in a blanket of clouds

Leeching the red and restoring her untainted pale glow

And then, relieved of the burden, she returned to her rightful throne

High in the sky, untouchable now to all
Leaving the heavy, reddened clouds behind

I’m happy for her

But, oh, what I would give to touch the moon