Monday, November 18, 2013

November Poem-A-Day 16


The moon again a golden dollar
and I wonder is there a midpoint
where the pull of gravity would tear
you apart, where you would no longer
belong to yourself but: you would be
irresistible. Where the tide would rise in you
dragging you back and forth, back and forth
a constant ebb and high. Of course, you
would need to get there, first, be finely calibrated
to know the halfway mark. Who knows,
you might even cause a partial eclipse.

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