Observations of lunar activity
All young
son, all withering, small towns
in winter months, a fat housewife moon,
celestial, circumstantial, a lovely lie,
the divide of us, like a streetcorner,
the jut of an ellipses at the tip of your
tongue,

a word forgotten,
you have it, but it wrestles away from you,
hungry for the loss of you,

hungry for skin
and moan.

Naturally the sky is otherworldly
after a breakup; the late spring
trees naked in the nightlight beyond
the window shade, the shutters rattle
in the morning wind storms,

we pulled each other closer once,
the extra curricular lunar activity had nothing to do with it,

we were our own moons,
we navigated our own tides.