Moon Okay Because You Asked

by Michael Homolka

Our race must appear so Old Testament
the way allegiances evaporate
eye-rollingly and how we honestly
believe we don’t need any help

Moon we might say on a given evening
Forget whatever we had between us
We might even mean it
erotically as a kind of come hither

as in Moon which is covered in horses
and steeped in your own long-standing
love triangle you still haven’t mentioned whose sheets
you’re going to drench in Eros tonight

You work feminine best Moon
and with male parts galloping intrepid
across sacred roads of modern day
middle-of-nowheres Outlet Sale Exit 60

Our brains go haywire when you
recoil and grow all pastoral Still we
recognize your need to deadhead
old relationships The confusion

overwhelms when we try to pin
you down and you navigate so artfully away
horny at night spooning with centaurs
Even this second you’re probably

mixed up in one of a thousand
nightscape implications ego-stained
empurpling forgetting those on whom
you’ve laid indelible mistakes

Every day we come home to find you
sitting and waiting like a lithograph
But you aren’t really waiting
are you? You’re elsewhere

Let us at least stroke your chest
Return us Moon if you have
any integrity left at all or just pity
to that pear-sweet prepubescence