Untitled
by Annie P.

i once saw the moon ashamed.
it hung low at the horizon
though the sun was gone
and the sky dark.

it was dispassionately surrounded with
air, glowing dimly with orange
and it's white facade looked caked with mud.
I’d never seen the moon so dirty.

and I knew somewhere,
there was a child starring up at it
puzzled and confused.
and the whore down the street would sigh
and say, "you're not the only one, kid,"

tomorrow I’ll admit it was the light
and all the layers of atmosphere
that switched the colors--

I’ll scrape meaning from the tiniest
fleck of dust and blow it in any
disbeliever's face.

but tonight,
I’ll view it as myself,
guilty and low, amazed.

and maybe in the morning--
the lone blackbird
will wake and sing
for all it's worth
[miroslav?]