barn baby
You asked me what I thought about going to the moon.
why? things are good here
i’ve dreamt of water
flowing into jade amphora, lips down
and reaching out to kiss
fresh blades of grass, your temples
soft and furrowed by some wet glare
of ceramic swans and glass bottles
your vision, diverted but trusting
anyways, she would watch from above
drunken moon swollen
with the rhymes of an hour
cackling, maniacal
swaddling my neurons
you, reaching out like a barn baby
to some abstract space in the sky
hands in prayer, preparing the journey
when we need only to close our eyes
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