Sunday, August 11, 2019


the waxing moon sits with us while
we eat our dinner on the balcony
when I look at her I think about
all my female friends, the ceramic dish
Celia made me a mini full moon
with finger marks as craters
I use it to burn candles and wishes
written on silver and gold leafed joss
paper listening to Goldie’s “Timeless”
album again it’s like a time lapse of the moon
rising in a movie, my partner’s discarded
contact lenses in the toilet bowl
a pair of shiny divots in the water
St. Lucia style presentation but floating
and bowl, not plate. carrying plates of eggs
Benedict at my new job, dreaming new job
dreams at night, rolling along smoothly