Moonbeams

Moonbeams

1.
If you’re looking for moonbeams, you’re blinking
up the wrong horse. It’s not even night, here.
That planet you see in the evenings hovering is
actually Venus. Notice how far it remains from
your fingers. A girl I once loved told me that.
Let us consider the weight of evening air on the
already swollen glands, the sweep of the breeze
across reddening skin. Leaves dropping, still green,
whose crunch underfoot will reveal only headaches
and runny noses. Likewise baseball caps as serving
any purpose other than covering receding hairlines,
the wriggle of flesh in jeans drifting forever
further from your straining thumbs. It was the
taste you missed most at night.

2.
Moonbeams

If you’re looking for moonbeams,
you’re blinking up the wrong horse.
It’s not even night, here.
That planet you see
in the evenings hovering
is actually Venus.
Notice how far it remains from your fingers.
A girl I once loved told me that.
Let us consider the weight of evening air
on the already swollen glands,
the sweep of the breeze across reddening skin.
Leaves dropping, still green,
whose crunch underfoot will reveal
only headaches and runny noses.
Likewise baseball caps as serving any purpose
other than covering receding hairlines,
the wriggle of flesh in jeans
drifting forever further
from your straining thumbs.
It was the taste you missed most at night.

C. L. Bledsoe

Posted over on The Scrambler

1. Cortney's prose poem.
2. Line breaks by Glenn Buttkus